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UC-NRLF

B 3 flM

C1NN W COMPANY

LIBRARY

OF THE '

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA.

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS

MARGARET WARNER MORLEY

AUTHOR OF " SEED-BABIES," " A FEW FAMILIAR FLOWERS," ETC.

GINN & COMPANY

BOSTON • NEW YORK • CHICAGO • LONDON

BIOLOGY

LIBRARY

fi£«E«AL

GINN & COMPANY • PRO-
PRIETORS • BOSTON • U.S.A.

A LETTER

TO THE READERS OF THIS BOOK.

DEAR CHILDREN, -

It would be very stupid indeed to try to read a book
written in Arabic or Hebrew ; we should soon tire and
put it down.

It is just as uninteresting to read English words whose
meaning we do not understand ; we might as well devote
ourselves to a foreign and unknown tongue.

I hope you will never do it. If you do not know what
a word means, find out. There is a list of words you may
not know at the back of this book to help you. They are
all words used in the book, and if you look you may not
find them as stupid as you think. Some day you will
discover that the dictionary is quite an exciting and inter-
esting volume.

Meantime enjoy the flowers and their insect friends all
you can, and be sure you know the meaning of all the
words that tell about them.

Your friend,

THE AUTHOR.

189774

CONTENTS.

PAGE

MORNING-GLORY STORIES . . 1
THE FLOWER

THIS is THE FLOWER so BRIGHT AND GAY . 11

THE CALYX . .13
BLOSSOM DEAR. ...

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE GARDEN . . 16
THE OVULES .

THE LEAVES. - 27

To THE MORNING-GLORY . .29

THE CONVOLVULUS FAMILY . 30

STORIES ABOUT THE GERANIUM FAMILY r 47
TROP^KOLUM STORIES :

TROP^OLUM HONEY . . .49

THE TROP.EOLUM .• 50

WHO LIES CURLED UP . , . . . . . -57

MORE ABOUT THE TROP.EOLUM , ^ ... 58
JEWELWEED STORIES :

A DAINTY CAVE « . .65
TOUCH-ME-NOT . ... ...

EARDROPS . . . • * • • • * -71

LADY'S SLIPPER . ... • • • 72

THE HUMMING BIRP , , , t • t » 74

vi CONTENTS.

PELARGONIUM STORIES: PAGE

THE PELARGONIUMS . . • • • • 75

AN AFRICAN 80

PELARGONIUM LEAVES . . « . « • 81
THE GERANIUM FAMILY .... * . 84

HYACINTH STORIES 93

THE HYACINTH 95

SIGNS OF SPRING 96

THE HYACINTH'S SCEPTRE .98

TUNICS 99

THE BEE . 104

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS . . 105

NECTAR GUIDES 107

CELLS 108

POLLEN CELLS 120

THE POLLEN . 127

THE ANTHERS 128

OVULE CELLS 129

CHLOROPHYLL . 134

ROOT CELLS . 144

SKIN CELLS 148

TUBE CELLS 162

STRENGTHENING CELLS 165

WE AND THE PLANT PEOPLE . . . . . 168

WHAT ARE THE FLOWERS MADE OF . . . . 176

WHAT BECOMES OF THE FLOWERS .... 181

NOTHING BUT LEAVES ..... , . 191

SIGNS OF OTHER TIMES . . ... . 214

WHY ARE THE FLOWERS so LARGE AND BRIGHT . 218
How MOTHER NATURE MAKES NEW FLOWERS . 223
TONGUES AND TUBES . 231

THE FLOWER.

THE morning-glory and the bracted bind-
weed might be taken for sisters, they look
so much alike. There is no doubt but that
they are closely related, although the bind-
weed grows wild and the morning-glory
has to be sown by us.

The bindweed lives in the country
and twines over the hedges by the
roadside ; you can see its pink-and-
white flowers all summer long if you
look in the right places.

It is a jolly sort of life the bindweed
leads, always twining, twining,
twining, with its leaves fao-
ing the sunshine and its
fl o w e r s
dancing
on their
slender
stems,

4 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

We often call the bindweed the wild morning-
glory, and we and the bees are fond of it. We
enjoy looking at it, and probably the bees do, too,
though they have yet another reason for liking it.
Just watch one go into a wild morning-glory some
fine day. You will think she expects to find some-
thing very delightful indeed from the way she
hurries in. And so she does. She buzzes down
the white line to the very bottom of the flower,
crowds her head as far in as she can get it, and then
thrusts her long brown tongue yet deeper in to
where the honey lies. For the flower makes honey
for the bee, and keeps it hidden as deep as possible.
There are five openings in the bottom of the flower
cup that go straight into the honey wells. You need
only look into a morning-glory and you will see them.
All kinds of morning-glories, as well as the bind-
weeds, have them.

The bees know this, and wherever you see the
morning-glories you will see their little winged
friends.

Very many flowers provide honey for the insects,
and it is fortunate for us that they do ; for if they
did not, we should see no butterflies and have no
honey, for butterflies and bees cannot live without
the honey the flowers give them.

MORNING-GLORY STORIES. 5

Flower honey has a special name ; we often call it
nectar, for a good reason which I mean to tell you
another time.

The places where the nectar is stored are the nec-
tar holders, or nectaries.

It must be a fine thing to go to a flower and take
a drink of honey whenever you wish ; but what will
you say when I tell you the bees get bread as well as
honey from the flowers ?

Yet this is what happens. You could not live
upon honey alone ; neither could a bee. Perhaps you
could not live upon bread and honey; but you could
if you were a bee, that is, beebread and honey.

For beebread is much more nutritious than the
bread we eat. In fact, it takes the place of meat
and eggs and milk and all the other things we take
such pains to get.

You do not see where a bee finds bread in a
flower ?

That is because you are not a bee. If you were,
you would know at once.

Suppose you watch a bee go into a morning-
glory.

She will be in a great hurry, and you will have to
keep your eyes open, or all will be over before you
know what has happened.

6 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

She will suck up the honey, and then very likely
she will turn around and around on the white pole-
like part that stands up in the middle of the flower.
She is not doing this for fun, nor because she is con-
fused and does not know which way to go next.

She is gathering fine flour of which to make bee-
bread.

Put your finger into the morning-glory and you,
too, may gather this fine flour.

When you take your finger out there will be some-
thing like fine white powder clinging to it. Well,
that is the flour from which the bee makes her bee-
bread. We call it pollen, and if we look closely we
shall find it is stored in five tiny boxes.

These boxes, which are called anthers, open by a
slit along one side, and the bee puts her funny little
feet into the slits and scrapes out the pollen, which
she moistens with honey and packs into baskets on
her hindermost legs, or fastens to the hairs on the
under side of her body.

Then she goes home and packs her load away in
the hive for future use.

You see it is not much trouble to make beebread
— that is, if you know how. It does not have to be
raised or baked, yet I doubt if you or I would be able
to make it so that a bee would consider it fit to eat.

MORNING-GLORY STORIES.

These anthers are held up on long white stalks
which grow to the inside of the flower cup, and
r-\ which are named

K ^^

,".-, A

filaments.

Since there are
five anthers there
are five filaments.
We call the whole
thing, anther and
filament, a stamen.
But this is not
all there is to be found in a morning-glory flower.
There is something else, and if it were not for this
something else we should not have the fun of learn-
ing about honey and stamens, because there would
be none ! Both honey and stamens exist because of
this something else.

It is in the very center of the flower, and the
stamens stand about it in a circle. It stands up like
a pole and has a knob at the top. The knob sticks
out above the stamens as a rule. When the flower
cup falls, the stamens fall too, because the filaments
grow fast to it. But this something else does not
fall. It stays on the vine, and you can see it better
after the flower cup has fallen.

We call it the pistil. It has neither honey nor

8 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

pollen, yet on its account the bees and butterflies
visit the flowers.

Here is its picture, and you may look at it as
carefully as you please. The knob at the top is
called the stigma, the long, slender part is called the
style, and the round bottom the ovary.

If you look over all the vine you will make a dis-
covery. You will find a great many of these pistils
in different stages of growth. When the flower cup
first falls off, the pistil is very small and has its
style and stigma. Then the style and stigma fall,
and only the ovary remains. This grows larger and
THE PISTIL, plumper, and you tell me it is the seed-pod and is full
of seeds. You are right about that ; it is the seed-
pod, and the pistil is the part where the seeds grow.

So now you see how very important it is, and I
would advise you to take another look at it.

If there were no seeds there could be no more
plants, so the growth of the seed is a matter of great
importance.

When the seed first begins to form it is tiny and
soft and delicate. It is attached to the inside of the
ovary, and we do not then call it a seed, but an
ovule. The word " ovule " means " little egg," and
the ovules are really the eggs of the plant, as you
will agree if you think a moment.

MORNING-GLORY STORIES. 9

If all goes well, the tiny, soft ovule becomes a
large, hard seed. But it cannot do this alone; it
needs help. Probably you never could guess what
helps it, so I will tell you at once : it is the pollen.

If a pollen grain can unite with an ovule, the two
thus joined together can grow into a seed. So you
see the flower does not provide pollen for the use of
the bee alone. It makes it for its own seed-children.

But the bee is the messenger that carries the pollen
to the ovule. You see the pollen grain of our
morning-glory lies in the anther below the stigma,
and it must reach the stigma so as to find its way
down to the ovary. Just how all this comes about
you will know later ; only now remember that the
pollen must get to the stigma, and that the bee puts
it there. Not on purpose, though. The bee collects
pollen for her own use, but in doing so touches the
stigma with her pollen-covered body, and some of
the pollen grains stick to the stigma instead of
remaining on the bee.

When the pistil is ripe, the stigma is sticky and
holds fast the pollen grains that touch it. The union
of ovule and pollen is called fertilization, and by fly-
ing about from flower to flower the insects carry
pollen from one flower to another, and thus fertilize
the plants.

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

You will know a great deal more about this later.
So we see the pollen is made for the sake of the
seeds. The honey is also made for the sake of
the seeds, for it attracts the insects that are neces-
sary to fertilize the flower. Even the flower cup has
its bright and beautiful coloring to attract the atten-
tion of the insects and call them to it. The name of
the flower cup is the " corolla," and means " a little
crown " or " garland."

The corolla is not the only covering the inner
parts have. Look at the end of the flower next the
stem and you will see the green calyx. When
the corolla falls off, the calyx stays and protects the
tender ovary. The calyx has five parts, or sepals,
and these fold about the ovary like a green cup and
keep it safe.

When the ovules are ready for the pollen, the
flower puts on its beautiful garland
as a sign that the life of the plant
ig to be renewed.

When we look at the flowers in
the fields and gardens we may know that
their loveliness is also a promise for the
future.

Calyx.

THIS IS THE FLOWER SO BRIGHT AND GAY.

MOST flowers have, like the morning-glory, corolla,
stamens, and nectar to assist the pistil in developing
the seeds.

The sweet pea has, and somebody once told a story
about it that I am going to tell you, because I think
it will help you to remember the parts of
the flower and their uses.

This is the flower so bright and gay.
This is the stamen that lives in the flower
so bright and gay.

^ This is the anther that grows on the
stamen that lives in the flower so bright
and gay.

This is the pollen that lies in the anther that
grows on the stamen, that lives in the flower so
bright and gay.

This is the bee that gathers the pollen that
lies in the anther that grows on the stamen that
lives in the flower so bright and gay.

12 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

This is the stigma that brushes the bee that gathers
the pollen that lies in the anther that grows on the
stamen that lives in the flower so bright and gay.

This is the style that leads from the stigma that
brushes the bee that gathers the pollen that lies in
the anther that grows on the stamen that lives in the
flower so bright and gay.

;This is the ovary that stands under the style that
ads from the stigma that brushes the bee that gathers
te pollen that lies in the anther that grows on the
ouamen that lives in the flower so bright and gay.

This is the ovule that hides in the ovary that
stands under the style that leads from the stigma
that brushes the bee that gathers the pollen that lies
in the anther that grows on the stamen that lives in
the flower so bright and gay.

This is the seed that grows from the ovule

BECAUSE

the ovule hid in the ovary, the ovary stood under
the style, the style led from the stigma, the stigma
brushed the bee, the bee gathered the pollen, the
pollen lay in the anther, the anther grew on the
stamen, and the stamen lived in the flower so bright
and gay !

THE CALYX.

THE calyx is green.

The calyx is strong.

The calyx protects the ovary.

It has five sepals — five green sepals.

They overlap like the tiles on a roof and thus pro-
tect the ovary from rain. They also protect it from
insects that otherwise might destroy it.

The calyx covers the base of the corolla and forms
a green urn, a little vase, in which to hold it secure
from harm.

It is not bright and delicate like the corolla, but
what would the flower do without it ?

BLOSSOM DEAR.

BLOSSOM dear, what is the power
Draws the shining wings to thee ?

Nestled in thy dainty bower
I can always find a bee.

Little friend, my bees find honey
Hidden deep as deep can be.

Without fear and without money
Come they for these sweets to me.

Flower, flower, give me honey,
Give me honey from thy store.

I will pay with love and money ;
Stores of money, and love much
more.

MORNING-GLORY STORIES. 15

Dear, I cannot give you honey.

Shall I truly tell you why ?
Bees pay better worth than money

As they have wings, but you
can't fly!

So I coax them with my honey,
Feed them with my very best,

While their wings bear life to many
Waiting in the cradle nest.

For the children of the flowers
Need the precious pollen dust,

And the bees have winged powers
To bear to them this sacred trust.

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE GARDEN.

THE morning-glory lay rolled up in the bud down
under the leaves. One day it bloomed.

The firm stem held it up, the bud un-
rolled, and the blossom stood there, fresh
and fair.

The bees saw it from afar, and came as
fast as they could.

The}' flew to the pink corolla, and, enter-
ing, enjoyed the feast spread for them.

moming-gl°ry? because of their com-

k \ *r - fine(j the nectar cups and opened the

boxes of snow-white pollen.

One after the other the bees came, drank
the nectar, and carried away the pollen. As
fast as the cups were emptied they were filled
again.

The honeybees and the bumblebees were
provided with baskets, which they filled with
pollen ; but the other bees carried it away on
the long hairs of their bodies.

MORNING-GLORY STORIES. 17

The morning-glory glowed in the sunshine all day
long, happy, no doubt, in the consciousness that the
little seed-children had begun to grow. It was
because of them the bees were made so welcome.

We can imagine the flower might feel like
saying, " This is my seed-children's birthday
party; come often, dear bees, and sip my
nectar and take my pollen. But be like the
good fairies and bring each a gift to my seed-
children."

The bees buzzed and came and went and came
and went.

Each time they took away nectar and
pollen to their hives, and each time left
something for the seed-children.

Do you suppose they left a cap of darkness,
and a pair of seven-league boots, and a sword
that always conquered, and a magic carpet that
took people wherever they wanted to go, as
the fairies used to do in the times when fairies
were alive and came to the christenings of little
children ?

I do not think the bees brought any of these things
to the birthday party of the seed-children.

The bees, not being real fairies, were obliged to
bring what they could.

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

Now, the day that the pink morning-glory
bloomed, a great many other morning-glories
came out of their buds, and they all gave the
bees a welcome.

They filled their cups with nectar and opened
their boxes of snow-white pollen.

Such a feast as was spread for the bees !
Blue morning-glories, and pink and purple
and white ones, on all sides they stood, fresh
and smiling, and invited the bees to come.
And the bees came. They went from one
to the other as fast as they could. They
sucked up nectar from all, and took it

home and made morning-glory honey of
it. And they gathered snow-white pollen
from all, and took it home and made
morning-glory beebread of it.

But they did not carry home all the

MORNING-GLORY STORIES.

snow-white pollen. They bore some of it as gifts
to the seed-children.

The seed-children needed the pollen; they could
not grow into seeds without it, and they needed the
pollen from another flower, not that from their own.
So the pollen the bees brought them
was better far than caps or boots or
carpets or any of those things the
fairies used to bring to human
children.

And this is why the morning-
glories made the bees so welcome. They could
not take their pollen to each other, for they
could not leave their steins; so they employed the
bees to carry it for them.

The morning- ^V glories nodded to each
other across the J^^v garden. "I will send
my bee to you," ^ °ne said to another,
and the bee came ^^^^^U, and left a few
grains of pollen from the ^^^xfriendl flower.
In this way the morning-glories
exchanged pollen all day /^%Lr^^' l°ng> so
that each had plenty of fresh neigh-

bors' pollen to give the jjr seed-children.

The flowers lasted all J/ day, from sunrise to
sunset, and the nectar <*r lasted all day, and the

20 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

snow-white pollen. But when night came the bees
went home to sleep, and the morning-glories, too,
slept. They rolled in the edges of their corollas so
that the way to the nectar cups was closed.

Next day the morning-glories did not open again.
There was no more nectar in their cups and no more
snow-white pollen in their anther cells. Other morn-
ing-glories came out of their buds and invited the
bees, but these staid shut. Soon the corollas, faded
now and no longer lovely to look at, fell off. Their
work was done. They had been beautiful to show
how happy they were and how lovely life was ; by
their beauty, too, they had brought the bees and
gained the pollen they wanted to make other lovely
flowers live. Now, their messages of love and
happiness given, they fell off, and the pollen boxes,
empty and withered, fell with them.

But they left behind life and hope, for each tiny
seed had received its grain of life-assuring pollen.
For only the corolla and the stamens fell. The seed-
children still clung to the stem; they lay in their
cradles, nicely wrapped up by the green calyx leaves.
And then the little stems that held the seed-babies'
cradles turned down and hid the little cradles under
the leaves.

The seed-babies grew and grew. They would soon

MORNING-GLORY STORIES.

have outgrown their cradles, only the strange thing
is, the cradles grew too ! They grew as fast as the
seeds and kept them snug and safe.
So all summer long, until the
frost came and it was time for *the
morning-glories to take their long
winter sleep, the buds opened in
the morning. All summer long
the bright morning-glories filled
their cups with nectar and opened
their boxes of snow-white pollen for
the bees. And all summer long the
seed-children received their pollen
and grew and grew in their cradles
that grew too. But after a while the
green cradles turned brown. And
after another while the brown cradles
opened to let the seed-children look
out, and as soon as this happened every
little black seed — for they had grown quite
black by this time — fell out of its cradle !
It did not hurt it to fall out, for it tumbled
and rolled down to the earth, where, at last, the wind
came and covered it with leaves, as the robins covered
up the babes in the woods. And the little black
seed-babies lay there as snug as seed-babies could be.

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

Then the snow came and spread a blanket over
them, and the leaves and the snow kept them as
warm as they wanted to be until springtime came
and the snow went away; and the seeds began to
stretch themselves and think it was time to wake up
and go out and see what was going on in the big
world above.

THE OVULES,

WHEN the ovules get ready to
grow, the flower prepares to bloom.
All about the ovules the delicate
walls of the ovary shut tightly.

The white filaments of the stamens
group themselves about it ; you can-
not see the ovary, they stand so close
to it.

Their anther cells reach halfway
up to the stigma, for the white
stigma stands above the anthers.
The anthers and the stigina are there for the sake
of the ovules.

But this is not all.

A delicate corolla of bright colors surrounds
the stamens and pistil. It holds them in its
white tube, and spreads the bright border out
wide for the bees to see and come to the help
of the ovules.

But this is not all.

24 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

The green calyx wraps its sepals about the end of
the corolla tube, and when the corolla falls
the calyx covers nicely the ovary and helps it
protect the ovules.
But this is not all.
When the bees have been and have left their
message of life, and when the corolla has faded and
fallen, the stems of the flowers turn down and hide
the ovary with its seedlets under the leaves.
But this is not all.

The leaves work day and night to make food for
the plant, and some of it goes to the ovules. The
leaves eat what is in the air and change it to
food for the rest of the plant and the ovules.
But this is not all.

The roots suck food from the hard
earth ; they help the leaves make food.
But this is not all.

The stems carry the food from the
roots to the leaves, and from the leaves
to the flowers, where it gets to the ovules.
Why should so much be done for the
sake of the tiny ovules, white
little atoms at the heart of
the flower?

MORNING-GLORY STORIES. 25

Why should the flowers care ? Why should they
spread bright corollas and arrange these cunning
protections and draw up the sap for the sake of the
tiny white ovules ?

Look into the ovary and see them.

Six small white things are they, so small and
soft you would scarcely think they were worth
much care.

But look again and think a little. They are very
wonderful, although so small. They grow to the
ovary by a little stem; they get the good sap to
grow on through this stem. They have a little hole
through their delicate coats, and through this hole
the pollen enters.

When the pollen is in, the little hole closes, and the
ovules feel strong and alive. They draw in the sap
the leaves have made them through their little stem ;
they grow larger and firmer. They cease to be tiny
white round things; they get two leaves with a
little stem and a bud between them.

They are no longer ovules, they are seeds. They
are little sleeping vines. In each black little seed is
a whole vine packed away.

After a time the old vine will fade away. It will
fall and turn brown. It will do no more work of
changing gases and minerals into living plant. It

26 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

will not again have green leaves and bear bright
flowers.

But there will be more morning-glories, for the
vine has stored some of its life in the seeds, and
they will not fade and cease to work. All that is
left of the life of the vine is in the seeds. All the
morning-glories that will grow and delight us with
their bright flowers next summer lie packed away in
the dark seeds.

Dear little seeds, live on through the cold winter ;
without you we never again could see our bright
morning-glories !

And that is why the vines take such care of the
seeds ; the whole race of morning-glories is in their
keeping.

THE LEAVES.

THE leaves of the morning-glory consider each
other. They stand close together, but, as you see,
they do not crowd.

They turn a little to one side that all may
have as much room as possible, for each needs
all the light and air it can get.

The leaves also have regard for the roots
working away in the dark earth. Instead of
being flat, they have a channel down the
middle, a gutter to convey the rain water from
leaf to leaf, and finally to the ground above
the roots.

Some of the roots, it is true, stray away, but
some stay close to the plant and suck up the
rain the leaves send them.

The young leaves fold together. They are
very tender, and too much cold or too much heat
would harm them ; and if they were open, the sun
would draw away too much of their water.

28 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

So they lie close and snug, and do
not open until they have grown large
and strong enough to meet the bright
sunshine and the cold night.

Then they open wide; they become
green and do their work, which is to
make food for the plant.

TO THE MORNING-GLORY.

WHAT do you do with your

pollen so white?
What do you do with your

honey so sweet?
What is the use of your border

so bright ?

And what is the use of your
calyx so neat?

THE CONVOLVULUS FAMILY.

THIS is a large and, on the whole,
aristocratic family.

About two thousand different kinds of
plants belong to it ; but not so many in
our climate. Perhaps not more than two
hundred of the Convolvulaeeae, which is
the proper name of this family, come as
far North as we live.

They are rather cold-blooded people,
these Convolvulacese, and prefer to stay
in or near the tropics.

Up our way are the morning-glories,
as you know. This is not
their native home,
though,
as it is
of the
bloodroots,
the bindweeds, and
all the other wild
flowers,

MORNING-GLORY STORIES. 31

They were brought here from the hot part of
America, near the equator. Somebody saw them,
no doubt, and of course fell in love with them and
sent some seeds to their friends in the North, or else
took them when they went home.

Perhaps a sailor boy, landing in South America
and seeing the bright flowers in the morning sun-
shine, thought of the New England village where he
lived and which he often longed for there in that
strange hot country, and perhaps he sent the seeds
of these bright flowers home in a letter. But who-
ever may have sent the first seeds, it is certain the
morning-glories received a hearty welcome in our
Northern world. And they soon behaved like old
settlers.

They grew cheerily where they were planted, and
their seeds fell to the ground, where they managed
to survive the cold Northern winter.

This must have been a great surprise to them the
first time they felt it !

Then up they came in the spring just as though
they were at home. They even strayed away from
the people's gardens and grew wild near the villages.

Perhaps they met their Northern cousins the bind-
weeds there. And what a surprise that must have
been, — to come up from South America and find a

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

member of. one's own family who had always lived
in the cold North !

See how astonished the morning-glory at the
bottom of the page looks as it gazes upon its cousin
the bindweed !

For the bindweeds, you must know, are like the
bloodroots and mandrakes and other wild flowers;
they are natives of our Northern climate.
There are several kinds of bindweeds
just as there are several kinds of
morning-glories ; but they are all,
morning-glories and bindweeds
alike, descended from some
way-back convolvulus an-
cestor, just as you and
your cousins and your
second cousins and your
third cousins and your fourteenth
cousins are all descended from the
same great, great, great, way-back grand-
father.

There is another member of the Convolvulus
Family with which we are all pretty well acquainted,
and that is our little red-flowered cypress vine. You
remember it, with its feathery leaves which we train
over trellises in our flower gardens.

MORNING-GLORY STORIES. 33

You would hardly think at first glance that it
was a relative of the morning-glory. But it is, as
you would discover if you looked at it very carefully
and saw how much it is like a morning-glory in its
way of growing, in spite of appearances.

It comes to us from Mexico, and you could hardly
expect a Mexican convolvulus to be just like a South
American one, the habits of the two countries are so
different, you know.

Why, you would hardly know your own relatives
if they had been born and brought up in South
America for a few generations.

The next time you go to Mexico be sure and look
out for the cypress vine, which, for all I know, may
be looked upon as just a common weed there, as
we look at thistles and dandelions here. We would
think thistles and dandelions beautiful flowers if
we had to raise them in gardens with a great deal
of trouble. But because we have to dig them out of
our gardens and lawns we call them weeds and detest
them.

Way down South, and also in some parts of Florida,
there lives a lovely convolvulus. It grows something
like our morning-glories, only its leaves are all sorts
of shapes, heart-shaped and halberd-shaped and
angled, all together on the same vine sometimes.

34 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

Its blossoms are real flower queens, they are so
large and white and fragrant. They have a tube
which is three or four inches long, and a snowy
border still larger. They are called bona nox, which
you know very well is the Latin for " good night."

The reason they are called this is, they do not open
in the morning at all, but always at night.

People have them growing over their porches
sometimes, and sometimes call them "moonflowers."

The long white buds are twisted tightly shut in
the daytime, but as soon as the sun sets, if you are
watching, you will see something to astonish and
delight you. For see, the bud moves a little ! . Then,
all at once, the great white flower spreads out its
corolla with a grace and serenity that thrill you.
Before your very eyes the bud unfolds, and you have
seen a flower blossom out ! At the same moment a
delicate and delightful fragrance fills the air.

But why does it bloom at night you ask.

The morning-glory has a bright bell to call the
bees, but the bees do not fly at night. Does this
large, fragrant white flower not care for the bees ?
Does it not wish pollen from other flowers ?

That it does ; above all things it wants pollen, and
that is why it has opened this large, white, fragrant
corolla.

MORNING-GLORY STORIES. 35

See its tube, how long and deep. What bee could
reach into that nectary ?

A humming bird might, but the humming birds
are all tucked up on their tiny perches sound asleep.
They will never sip the nectar from those large white
moonflowers.

But what am I saying ? Here comes one now !
Such a whirr of wings ! Such a dainty bird as poises
before the large
sweet flower ! It
thrusts in its bill,
but stay! that is not a bird's bill F finding its way
to the bottom of those deep-placed ! nectaries. It
is a long, slender tube such as V butterflies
have, and this is no bird, but v a large night-
flying moth.

These moths are heavier than butterflies and look
very much like humming birds when darting through
the air.

But if you see one at rest you know at once it is
no humming bird. When the humming birds are
darting about in the sunshine, these moths are hidden
beneath a leaf or in some other safe place.

Perhaps they fear some bird with a taste for moths
will eat them if they come out. Perhaps they love
the quiet night. However that may be, as soon as

36 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

it is dusk they fly out. They are hungry after their
sleep through the long summer day, 'and dart about
to find flowers that are still open.

The morning-glories, we know, are closed, for they
love the bees, but the moonflowers are filling the air
with perfume; their fragrance guides the moths to
the white flowers that shine out in the dim light.

Now you see why the moonflowers are white and
why they are fragrant. They wish to call these
friendly nightmoths to come and carry pollen from
flower to flower.

If they were red or purple the moths could not so
easily see them, and if they had no odor the moths
could not smell them a long way off, and so might
not come close enough to find them.

So our fair Southern friend the moonflower loves
the moths and not the bees. Into its long white tube
their long, slender tongues can easily reach and find
the nectar, and in taking it they brush the pollen
against their tongues or their faces, and when they
go to another flower it is rubbed against the stigma.

The sphinx moths are the fellows with long suck-
ing tubes that fly in the evening.

A good many members of the Convolvulus Family
make us happy by their beauty, but some of them
do more than this. The sweet potato, for instance,

MORNING-GLORY STORIES.

gives us something to eat. You know what it gives
us, but probably you did not know the sweet potato
is a convolvulus and first cousin to the morning-glory
and moonflower, and that it has come to us all the
way from India.

Some say its home is in the East Indies too, and
when you go there, if you look in the right place,
you may see it growing wild. I doubt if the wild
plant bears such big potatoes though; probably
they are the result of long cultivation. .

It is also said that its home is in tropical
America. Very likely it belongs to all these

/places. Some plants have a way of
living all over the world at once.

How they managed to get separated
so far is a problem we must try to
solve some day.

The sweet potato generally lies
flat on the ground and sends
out long stems in all

38 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

directions. Its leaves, as you can see, are more or
less like morning-glory and bindweed leaves. Its
flowers are also like morning-glories, though they
are not so pretty. It has a habit of storing up
quantities of starch and sugar in its roots. It does
this, hoping to use the starch and sugar again as
food in forming new shoots. But sometimes we
step in and disarrange all these fine plans, for we,
too, need starch and sugar as food, and we take the
big sweet roots and eat them.

People plant large fields of sweet potatoes, par-
ticularly in the South. So next time you eat a
sweet potato, remember it is one kind of morning-
glory which has given it to you.

The sweet potatoes are no relation whatever to
our common potatoes; they do not belong to the
same family.

The sweet potato is not the only useful morning-
glory. There is the jalap, though if you have ever
made its acquaintance you may differ from me as to
its value; for however useful it may be from the
doctor's point of view, it certainly possesses proper-
ties which are quite the reverse of agreeable.

It, too, forms large tubers, which it stores full of
plant food, but it so happens that this particular
plant food is not fit for human food. We put it to

MORNING-GLORY STORIES.

quite another use. In fact, jalap is used as a medi-
cine. It grows very luxuriantly at Jalapa, or. as the
Mexicans spell it, Xalapa, in Mexico, and that is the
way it gets its name of jalap.

In spite of its very disagreeable taste and bene-
ficial effect upon sick people, the jalap is a lovely
vine with beautiful deep pink flowers.

If you saw it growing along the eastern slopes of
the Mexican mountains you would never suspect it
of being a medicine plant, and you might not suspect
it of being a convolvulus, since its flowers are flat
instead of tubular in form.

Several members of the Convolvulus
Family have the same medicinal proper-
ties as jalap, and one in particular,
whose name is scammony, is very highly
esteemed.

It has an uncommonly bad taste, and
its swollen roots are brought all the way
from Syria and Asia Minor, not because
of their bad taste, but because of their
power as a medicine. The scammony,
like the jalap, is a pretty plant in spite
of its bad-tasting, medicinal roots.

Most of the Convolvulaceae have a
milk}', bitter juice, — even our pretty,

SCAMMONY.

40 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

harmless morning-glories, — and in the jalap and
scammony this seems to be exaggerated in quality
and quantity.

A few of the Convolvulacese manage to make
woody stems and become shrubs instead of vines.

Two of these live on the Canary Islands, and their
sap, instead of being nauseous and bad-smelling, has
a delicate and delicious fragrance. People take the
wood from root aftd stems and press out the oil to be
used in making perfumery.

Perhaps you know the odor of oil of rhodium.
Whenever you smell it you are inhaling the fragrance
from a Canary convolvulus.

It is a little surprising to find our convolvulus so
widespread and so really useful in different parts of
the world ; but there is another side to the history
of this highly respectable family. Every family,
probably, has its black sheep, and not even the Con-
volvulaceoB can hope to have all their relatives
honest and useful or beautiful.

Still, one hates to speak of the dodders. They
are in the world, however, and they belong to the
Convolvulus Family ; there is no denying that, how-
ever much one might like to. None of the Convol-
vulus Family ever speak of them — at least I have
never heard of their doing so.

MORNING-GLORY STORIES. 41

As a rule, the members of the Convolvulus Family
are aristocrats. They have descended from a long
line of plants that have gone on improving. That
is what makes an aristocrat in plant land, — to be
descended from a long line of plants that have kept
on improving. Simply to belong to an old family
does not count for much in the plant world, unless
that old family has kept on doing something to im-
prove itself.

We know the Convolvulacese are aristocrats for
one thing by their tubular corollas; it took good,
wide-awake ancestors to make corollas without sepa-
rate petals anyway, and particularly tubular ones.
Then their color tells their history. They are often
blue or purple, which is a very aristocratic color
among flowers. Instead of being blue-blooded, they
are blue-colored.

The moonflower is not blue, but think what a
tube it has and what a large fine corolla; and then
think, too, that it has learned to bloom at night so
as to get fertilized by the moths, and that is a very
aristocratic thing to do, I assure you.

If a flower blooms at night it is as great an honor
as to wear a blue corolla. For you see it has taken as
much growth in the direction of progress to acquire
the night-blooming habit as to acquire a blue corolla.

42 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

The cypress vine has a red corolla, which is a good
color, but not quite as advanced as blue. You see,
in the beginning of the world flowers were yellow;
then some became white, then pink. Probably red
was the next step, then came purple, and last of all
blue.

But the cypress vine has very finely divided leaves,
as you remember, and in that it is ahead of the
morning-glories. For in the beginning of the world,
we are told, leaves were not divided, and only after
a long time did some plants learn to divide them,
and so increase their usefulness as leaves.

But when we come to the dodders, they have no
leaves at all. The reason for this is, they do no
work for themselves. The green leaves, as you
know, prepare the food for the plant and work very
hard to do it. If the dodders have no leaves, where
do they get their food? That is just the trouble.
They make other plants give it to them. They are
very much like tramps, going about and living on
other people. Only they are worse than tramps, for
they do not say, " Please give me something to eat.
I am hungry and want some starch and nitrogen
compounds." They do nothing of the sort. They
catch hold of another plant and take away its juices
without leave or license. So you see they are really

MORNING-GLORY STORIES. 43

thieves and robbers, these rascally dodders. No
wonder the morning-glories are not proud of them.
Not that the dodders care. It is a question whether
they even know they are related to the morning-
glories.

They think of little but how to get something to
eat out of other people.

They begin their shameful career from the very
seed. Instead of sprouting hi the spring with the
other seeds, they lie still until all the other plants
have gone out of their seeds and are at work making
green leaves and storing their stems with plant
juices.

Then Dodder the Robber comes out. But instead
of sending down a root and up a stem like other
seeds, he just pushes out a little thread-
body, which fastens into the ground.
You might think this an honest little
root going down into the ground if you did not know
friend Dodder. But it is no root ; it does not suck
up juices from the earth : it simply anchors the little
robber so he cannot be blown away. Now the thread-
like body grows larger and sticks up out of the
ground, carrying the seed-coat with it. The
seed -coat is packed with food which the parent ^
plant stored away there. The young dodder

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

nourishes itself with this food until it is all
gone; then it casts off the empty seed-coat,
and behold young Dodder ready for the fray.
What he very much wants at this time is
a fresh young twig to cling to and suck the
juice out of. If nothing of the sort is handy
he is in a bad way, for he is too Jielpless to
do anything for himself. He has no green
leaves, and does not know how to make any,
and without green leaves he cannot get a
thing to eat. Poor Dodder ! after all, it is
not wholly his fault he is such a good-for-
nothing specimen of planthood. You see he
came from bad stock. His parents wrere like
this before him, and no one has ever taught
him any better. Well, there he lies, as help-
less a plant as you can imagine. But just let
a green shoot come within reach ! TJien you
will see ! He twists around it without stop-
ping to say " by your leave." He pierces it
with little suckers that draw out its juices.

Now Dodder is all right. He has plenty

of food without the trouble of making

a bit of it himself.

And then how he grows ! Up the poor

weed he twines, a slender yellow stem

MORNING-GLORY STORIES. 45

that looks as much like yellow yarn as anything else.
Around and around he turns ; he has no leaves to
make, only useless little scales that show where long
ago his ancestors once had honest leaves.

You will sometimes find the weeds in a damp place
a perfect tangle of dodder vines, so that nothing else
is to be seen. They cover the weeds, sucking out
their juices and smothering them. And when the
time comes the dodder breaks out into innumerable
bunches of flowers, which grow at short distances
along the yellow stems. These flowers are small
and generally white, and clustered so close together
that they form a sort of knot or rosette on the
stem.

You would never imagine to look at them that
they belonged to our Morning-Glory Family.

Their corollas are more or less cleft, being grown
together only at the base.

Sometimes the flowers are orange-colored or reddish,
but they do not seem to attract the insects much.
Nor do they care, for they can easily fertilize them-
selves, the anthers and stigmas being so close
together. They have none of the ingenious arrange-
ments for cross-fertilization that characterize their
more fortunate relatives. They are thoroughly
degraded plants.

FLOWERS AND THETR FRIENDS.

There lives a dodder in Europe which grows upon
flax, and so does damage to the flax fields, and I am
sorry to say this little pest has tramped his way
across the ocean into our flax fields. We do not
thank Europe at all for sending us such an emigrant.

As the dodders have nothing to do but suck the
juices of other plants and make seeds out of them,
you may be sure they set any quantity of seeds to
keep up the disreputable race of dodders.

Yet, in spite of the dodders, dear Convolvulus
People, let us say to you, as our beloved old Rip Van
Winkle says to us, " May you live long and prosper,
and all your family ! "

TROP^EOLUM STORIES.

TROP^OLUM HONEY.

IF you had a horn as red as

a rose,
And full to the brim with

honey,

If a bee came along and

begged you for some,

Now tell, would you give

her any ?

If I had a horn as red

rose,
And full to the brim with

honey,
If a bee came along I 'd invite

her in,

And give her all she could
carry !

as a

THE TROP^OLUM.

LIKE the morning-glory flower, the tropaeolum, or
nasturtium, as we usually call it, has several impor-
tant organs. It has a pistil and stamens, and plenty
of rich nectar.

Its corolla, as you know, is large and showy, but
it is not in the form of a tube. It is divided,
into several distinct pieces called petals.
Its calyx, too, is not green, but is
colored somewhat like the corolla.
And what is that we see — that
long red horn ?

That is the tropaeolum's nectary.
It is framed from the calyx,
in which certain of the
sepals have grown
together to form
this horn of
plenty.

TROPAEOLUM STORIES. 51

We are tempted to call it a horn of plenty because
it is shaped like a cornucopia and is overflowing
with sweet nectar.

It is no wonder the bees and humming birds visit
Tropaeolum so constantly.

She has provided a most attractive dish of honey
for them, but she has so cleverly placed it that they
cannot reach it without doing her a service. In our
climate bees and humming birds are her constant
visitors, but in her own home, in South America, she
may have visitors we do not know. She may have
a favorite moth whose tongue just fits into her long
red horn, or it may be a humming bird that comes
to her there, for South America is the home of the
humming birds, or it may be a butterfly. We do not
know about that, but we do know that her red spur
has doubtless grown to its present form to please some
beloved bird or insect, and that the bill or tongue of
that bird or insect is as long as her red spur.

Why do you suppose Tropaeolum makes honey for
the insects and the birds ?

Why does she love to have them come and take
the nectar from her long red horn?

I think I know the reason why. She has placed
her horn of nectar just back of her stamens. The
bees must walk over the stamens before they can

FLOWERS AND TH^IR FRIENDS.

reach the nectar. The humming bird must touch
the anthers when he thrusts in his bill. Whatever
takes the honey must touch the anthers.

This is why Tropaeolum has a long red horn full of
rich nectar. She wishes the birds and insects that
come to her for honey to touch her anthers, which
are overflowing with red pollen.

She has made the pollen for her friends, and not
for her own use. She wishes her neighbors, the
other tropaeolums, to have the beautiful gift ; but
how can she send it to them ?

She makes herself beautiful and
bright ; she fills her horn with
honey and exhales fragrance.
The bees and the humming

birds see her and approach. No

doubt they rejoice in the bright
colors, the perfume, and the nectar.
They come on bright wings, and
as they approach the nectary the
grains of red pollen cling to them.

They cannot get enough nectar
from one flower ; each gives them a
little, then they fly to others for more.
From flower to flower they hasten and
scatter pollen as they go. The pollen from

TROP^OLUM STORIES. 53

one flower is often left in another, and this is what
the tropseolum wants. It wishes its pollen to reach
another flower, and uses the bees and the humming
birds as its messengers.

Its stamens lie flat on the floor of the flower.
When one is about to ripen its anther rises and
stands up in front of the spur, where the nectar is
ready. Then out bursts the fine red pollen. Only
one anther ripens at a time. It sometimes takes
several days for the tropseolum to shed all its pollen.

As soon as the pollen is gone the anther lies down
again out of the way.

The stamens do not crowd the doorway of the
spur ; they lie down out of the way until they ripen,
then they stand in front of the spur, and when their
pollen is shed they lie down again.

They do not obstruct the way to the nectary
because they wish the bees and birds to find an easy
entrance.

Why does one anther ripen at a time? Why do
not all shed pollen together, as is the habit of the
morning-glory, and finish in one day?

Perhaps the tropoeolum fears the rain may ruin
the chances of the seeds to get pollen. We know
that water spoils the pollen, and though the tro-
paeolum has fringes to keep it from the nectary,

54 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

and a roof to protect it, more or less would doubt-
less beat in during a hard shower.

Does the tropaeolum bloom, then, in the rainy
season in its own hot home — in the rainy season
when the showers are terrific?

We should like to know that.

If it did, that would be a good reason for ripening
the anthers one at a time. If one were spoiled,
another might succeed.

We may be sure there is a good reason for this
habit of the tropaeolum, though we may not have
discovered it.

When at last the pollen is gone and the anthers
are empty and shriveled, the spur is still full of
honey.

In front of it has risen, not a stamen this time,
but a dainty five-rayed stigma. It is held in place
by the style, and is ripe and ready for pollen. It
has unfolded its five rays that it may catch and hold
the pollen grains.

But all its pollen is gone ! The bees and the
birds have carried it away. The bees ate some and
carried some home to their hives. None remains
for the five-rayed stigma. But here comes a bee, a
large, yellow-banded bumblebee. She has a ball of
red pollen in each of her two baskets. She gathered

TROP^OLUM STORIES. 55

it in another tropaeolum blossom, and intends to take
it home to feed the young bees ; but as she enters
our pollenless flower for nectar, lo ! she brushes
aside the five-rayed stigma. A few grains of pollen
from her legs cling to the stigma $ for it is sticky and
holds them.

The bee hurries away. She does not know what
she has done; she does not know that in brushing
aside the stigma that stood in her way she has given
life to the seeds and provided for a new generation
of tropseolum vines.

The flower gave pollen to its neighbors, and now
in its need they have sent pollen to it.

Soon the bright corolla fades and falls. Its work
is done. It expressed its joy in life ; it called the
bees, and by them sent pollen to its neighbors, and
took pollen from them in return.

For many days it kept its long red horn full of
sweet nectar, until its stigma rose and took the
pollen, when the flower faded and fell. But the
five-rayed stigma did not fall. It remained attached
to the green little fruit that lay hid in the heart of
the flower.

It is not easy to see this fruit when the flower first
opens, for it is small and hidden by the stamens.

But after the pollen has reached the stigma the

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

fruit grows rapidly. The corolla falls, and the stem
that holds the fruit curls up. It curls up until it
has drawn the green fruit down under the leaves,
out of the way of the buds that wish to open. The
stigma and style fall off at last, and leave the fruit
to ripen alone.

WHO LIES CURLED UP?

WHO lies curled up under the shields ?

Under the shields of its parents ?
A cunning young fruit peeps out o'er the
world,

From under the shields of its parents.

It is parted in three with a seed in each part,
This cunning young fruit I ' ve told you about.

It is parted in three, yet the three are one fruit,
Lying under the shields of the parents.

The stems curl up and pull it down

Under the shields of its parents.
It lies there all safe, so near the

warm ground,

Under the
shields of its
parents !

MORE ABOUT THE TROP^OLUM.

THE tropoeolum, which people call nasturtium, has
shields to defend itself.

Warriors are content with one shield, but the
tropaeolum has many.

They have only to protect themselves
from the darts of the enemy, but the
tropseolum has a harder task : it
has to protect itself against the
pangs of hunger.

It needs many shields to do this,
for hunger is a tireless foe, and has
his quiver always full of arrows.

You see, in the tropaeolum the shields
are the leaves, and they are held out
on long stems to catch the darts
Apollo, the sun, flings at them.
These are
not un-
friendly
darts, but
as they

TROP^OLUM STORIES. 59

strike the little shields of the tropaeolum they make
them tingle with life. Then the shield leaves go to
work and make food for the plant. They make
starch and many other things. They make a spicy
juice, for one thing, that causes our tongues to smart
if we taste it. Sometimes we bite a tropaeolum stem,
for we like the taste of the sharp juice. But we do
not want too much of it, for it makes the palate at
the back of the nose tingle, and that is why we call
it " nasturtium." "Nasturtium," you know, comes
from two Latin words, nasus tortus, which mean
"convulsed nose"; and nobody likes to have a "con-
vulsed nose" very long at a time!

" Nasturtium " is not the right name for our plant
with its many shields.

There is another plant which " convulses " our
noses, and which the botany tells us is the nastur-
tium, but which we call water cress. We eat it in
the spring of the year.

The right name of our garden nasturtium is " tro-
poeolum," which comes from a Greek word meaning
" trophy," its many shields probably being likened
to so many trophies taken from the enemy.

Another name for it is u Indian cress," and,
like the water cress, it sometimes is eaten, only in
this case it is the flowers instead of the leaves that

GO FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

find themselves converted into a salad. The fruits,
too, share a similar fate. Like the rest of the plant,
they are filled with spicy juice. This is a misfortune
to them, since it tempts people to take these juicy,
spicy fruits and pickle them to eat.

Perhaps the plant learned to store up this stinging,
spicy juice to protect itself from being eaten by ani-
mals. But what can it do to protect itself from the
pickle jar?

Perhaps, however, the stinging juice was but a
result of the plant's peculiar method of growth.
Of course juice must have some sort of taste, and
why not a stinging taste as well as any other ?

This plant prepares another liquid which is not
sharp and stinging, but sweet and spicy ; with this
delicious nectar it fills its long spur and keeps it full.

The bees collect it and convert it into tropaeolum
honey to fill their waxen cells.

This the plant does not object to. It makes the
nectar for the bees, and when, they take it away and
store it up for winter use the tropseolum suffers no
loss. But when some one comes along and picks
the fruits and stores them up for winter use, that is
another matter !

We are tempted to call the spur of the tropseolum
its "horn of plenty," for that is the name of the

TROPJEOLUM STORIES. 61

horn overflowing with good things that never is
empty.

The Goddess of Plenty owns this horn. You
can see it in her pictures, as it always stands at
her side, and there overflows with flowers and
fruits. All that is good that grows in the earth
is in the horn of the Goddess of Plenty. It is
her cornucopia, for " cornucopia," you know, means
"horn of plenty."

The goddess got her horn from the Naiads. They,
you know, are the nymphs of the brooks and foun-
tains, and they gave it to her.

This is the story of how she got it.

The river god, Acheloiis, and Hercules, the god
of strength, struggled together. Hercules threw the
god Acheloiis and seized him by the throat. Then
Acheloiis, in order to escape, changed himself into
a serpent.

This did not help him, for Hercules seized him by
the neck and would have choked him, but Acheloiis
again changed his shape.

He became a bull, but this was
not enough to defend him from
the great strength of Hercules,
who seized him by the neck
and dragged him to the ground,

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

and in the struggle rent one of his horns from his
head.

The nymphs of the brooks and the fountains, who
were related to the river god, Acheloiis, consecrated
the horn and gave it to the Goddess of Plenty.

That is one story, but some say
the following is the history of
cornucopia.

You know Saturn, the oldest
of the gods, had a bad habit of
swallowing his children. When
Jupiter was born, his mother,
Rhea, did not wish his father,
Saturn, to swallow him; so she
gave him to the care of the
daughters of the king of Crete.
They fed him on milk from the goat Amalthea,
and watched over him and protected him so that
his father should not find him. The people of
Crete danced about him and made such a noise
when he cried that his father could not hear
him.

He must have cried very loud indeed to make all
that necessary ; but then, he was destined to become
a very great god, so no doubt he did make more
noise than ordinary babies,

SATURN.

TROP^OLUM STORIES. 63

Out of gratitude to hi$ kind nurses, and also as a
token of esteem to the good Amalthea, Jupiter broke
off one of her horns and endowed it with a very
wonderful power. It became filled at once with
whatever its possessor might wish!

This was a horn of plenty indeed !

Now you know both stories, and you
may take your choice as to which one
you will believe. Whether our tro-
paeolum had either of these in mind,
it certainly made a very dainty
cornucopia when it constructed its
honey-horn and filled it for the
bees, the butterflies, and the hum-
ming birds.

The tropseolums we have inL
our gardens are not the only
kinds ; there are, in fact, some forty different tro-
paeolums living in South America and Mexico, and
in Peru there is one which has large tuberous
roots filled with plant food, which is also good food
for man, and is eaten in some parts of South America
instead of potatoes !

How would you like to dig your potatoes out of
the nasturtium bed?

It certainly would be a pretty place to work oil

JCPITKK.

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

a summer day, and how fine the fields would look
all covered with gay tropseolum
blooms instead of plain green potato
tops with their dull blue flowers !

JEWELWEED STORIES

A DAINTY CAVE.

TOUCH-ME-NOT lias a dainty cave

Spotted with red and poised in the air.
Touch-me-not is a pretty knave
With ruby spots and yellow cave,

Swinging there

So fresh and fair.

TOUCH-ME-NOT.

TOUCH-ME-NOT lives in moist places. Her feet
stand in the damp earth and her head looks up above
the bushes. Other plants love the damp, rich soil
along the brookside, and Touch-me-not is sometimes
crowded for room.

She is a tender little plant, this Touch-me-not, and
she is brave and wise. She knows that
must have

JEWELWEED STORIES. 67

She finds it easy to be beautiful in the pleasant
world, where the sun shines upon her and the
breezes fan her.

So forth from the axil of every leaf she swings out
her dainty buds. They open their petals at last, all
yellow and spotted with red. Cunning caves for the
bee, they swing on slender stems. The tangle of
weeds by the brookside is dotted all over by the
bright blossoms. Light as they are, their slender
stems bend under their weight.

The bees see them from a distance ; they are
attracted by the bright colors and fly to visit the
touch-me-nots. They search for honey, and of course
they find it, for the touch-me-not has wisely provided
nectar for bees and birds.

The pretty yellow flowers contain ricli honey in
the little spur at the back. The end of the spur
turns down, and it is in this turned-down tip the
honey is made. From there it runs into the upper
part of the spur, where the bees can reach it.

The moist roadside in many places is dotted with
yellow touch-me-not flowers. They hang like ear-
rings from their stems, and many call the plant
"jewel weed" because of them. It is a pretty sight
in the morning to see the bright jewels sparkling in
the dew,

68 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

" Rubythroat " flashes about among them. " Ruby-
throat " is our northern humming bird. His throat
is ruby red and sparkles in the sun. The rest of his
body is green and brown. He shines like a jewel in
the sunlight and darts from flower to flower. You
cannot watch him, he flies so fast. But when he
wishes a sip of honey he poises on his tiny wings
before the jewel weed.

Into the dainty swinging flower he darts his
slim black bill. He is partial to the honey of the
touch-me-not, and wherever it grows in abundance
you will be sure to see the rubythroats darting
about.

Rubythroat does the flower a favor in return for
the honey he gets.

You know about that. He carries pollen to it
from some other flower. This new pollen enables
strong seeds to form. The jewel weed is very careful
to have strong seeds. It covers the pistil with a
hood of its own anthers. Behind the anthers in a
dark little room the pistil waits until all the pollen
is gone and the anthers have fallen off.

The flower does not wish its pistil to receive its
own pollen. The earth is crowded, and the seeds
must be strong to grow. So the pistil is hidden
behind the screen of the anthers until there is no

JEWEL WEED STORIES. ' 69

more pollen left ; then it comes forth and waits for
the birds or the bees to bring it fresh pollen.

The anthers and pistil are not on the floor of the
touch-me-not flower, as they are in the nasturtium.
They hang from the roof like tiny chandeliers.

The bees do not walk over them, but touch them
with their heads or backs, and the humming bird
touches them with the top of its bill or with the
feathers on its face.

When the birds or the bees have brought the
pollen, the yellow corolla falls off and the fruit
grows fast.

It is a smooth and delicate fruit, and it may be
you know what it does to help the seeds find room.

When the fruit is ripe, the outer covering all of a
sudden splits and curls up with considerable force,
acting like a spring and shooting the seeds far over
the thicket.

It spreads them far and wide,
so they have a better chance to
find a place to take root when
the time comes.

The fruits are so eager to send the seeds on their
journey, and so fearful that some harm will come to
them, that they snap them away if any one touches
the pods. If you jostle these eager plants you will

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

hear the seeds flying in all directions. If you touch
a seed-pod it goes off in your fingers. No wonder
we call the plants " touch-me-nots " ! Some call
them "snapweed" or "snappers," and the botany
calls them "impatiens," because they are so im-
patient !

They have yet another name, " lady's eardrop,"
and I do not know how many more. People must
like the pretty things to give them so many names.

EARDROPS.

EARDROPS of gold with red rubies beset,
Hang from the ears of a

dear little maid.
"Where did you get them,
my darling, my pet ?"
"Down by the brook
you can pick them/'
she said.

LADY'S SLIPPER.

IN the garden grows a relative of our jewel weed.
It is called the "garden balsam," and sometimes
" lady's slipper."

Its own home is far-off India.

Its flowers are larger than those of the jewel-
weed and are not yellow, but white or red or pink,
and sometimes pink and white spotted. In shape,
however, it is very like the jewelweed ; it hides its
pistil beneath the anthers in the same way and snaps
its seeds afar.

Its flowers grow double and close to the stalk, and
it makes a fine show in the garden in the fall of the
year.

There is one thing I should like very much to
know, and that is, just when and how this Indian
balsam and its cousin the North American jewel-
weed got separated.

Way, way back, farther back than the building of
the pyramids, these two plants must have had the
same ancestors. Now, where did those ancestors
live ? In India ? In America ? Somewhere between ?

JEWELWEED STORIES. 73

And what caused them finally to get so widely
separated ?

Who is going to tell us ?

For over two hundred and fifty years the Indian
balsam has been cultivated as a garden plant, and no
doubt this long cultivation has done much to bring
about changes. Still, its resemblance to the jewel-
weed is quite unmistakable, and we cannot doubt
the relationship of the two.

THE HUMMING BIRD.

FLASHING in the sunshine,

Dashing through the air,
Sparkling like a jewel,

See him everywhere !
Poised before a flower

For a moment's space,
Off again like lightning

On some headlong chase !

Blossoms all set swinging

On each slender stem.
Touch-me-nots are happy

When he visits them,
For he shakes the pollen

From his shining crest.
Rubythroat is joyous,

Touch-me-not is blest !

PELARGONIUM STORIES.

THE PELARGONIUMS.

A PELARGONIUM is a " stork's
bill." "Pelargonium" comes
from a Greek word meaning
"stork," and the plant is so
named because of the long, beak-
like seed-pods. We call the
pelargoniums " geraniums,"
and raise them in our houses.
" Geranium " means almost
the same as " pelargonium," for
a geranium is a " crane's bill,"
"geranium" coming from
a Greek word meaning
" crane," and the
plant is so called
because of the
shape of the
seed-pods.

76 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

I do not think there is much difference between a
crane's bill and a stork's bill, and these two plants
with their seed-pods so very much alike were, no
doubt, named "stork's bill" and "crane's bill" to
distinguish them from each other. But we have
succeeded in hopelessly mixing them up, for every-
body insists upon calling the pelargonium "gera-
nium," and the geraniums which grow wild in our
woods and fields we call " crane's bill " and " herb
Robert."

The pelargoniums are mostly Africans. There are
a great many kinds of them, and all but ten or
twelve live in South Africa among the Bushmen,
the Boers, and the Englishmen.

The rest have chosen to settle in the northern
part of Africa, in the Orient, if you know where that
is, and in Australia. Some people believe there are
four hundred different pelargoniums, and some say
there are less than two hundred. You see, the
pelargoniums change easily. Thus a great many
varieties are always arising, and it is almost impos-
sible at this late day to discover which was the orig-
inal form of the plant.

The pelargoniums we know best are the ones we
call "horseshoe geraniums," "Lady Washington
geraniums," and "rose geraniums."

PELARGONIUM STORIES. 77

We are apt to think of the whole Pelargonium
Family as being ornamental rather than useful, but
in that wonderful South African country where so
many of them live, there is actually a pelargonium
that produces edible tubers !

The next time you go to Cape Colony you must
be sure and eat potatoes gathered from a geranium
plant !

Down in Algeria, where the walls are so white
and the sun shines so hot, the people express an oil
from their geraniums and sell it. Other geraniums
also yield this fragrant oil, but nowhere is it so
largely used as in sunny Algeria.

Pelargoniums love to grow. You need only break
off a twig and stick it in the ground, and it will
grow as merrily as though nothing had happened.

One day a double-flowered crimson pelargonium
blew away in a gale of wind. It broke off just
above the root and away it went. It was rescued,
stuck back into the pot of earth, abundantly watered,
and continued to open its flowers as though such an
escapade were an everyday occurrence !

Now about its beak. The pelargonium has a
beak, 110 doubt, but it does not put it to the same
use the stork does, for its beak is made up of the
long styles of the pistil which cling fast to a central

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

column. The whole fruit looks a little like a long
bird's beak. This beak opens, but not to swallow
little fishes as a stork's beak does.

It opens to let out a feather! When the seed gets
ripe, the case in which it lies at the bottom of the
pistil breaks away, and the style curves up and
breaks loose from the central support. As soon as
the style loosens, out comes the feather. Not a real
feather, of course, but a tuft of silvery
white hairs that grow along the inside
of the style and are packed close as can
be until the style lets them out ; then
they separate and form a wide
fringe along the loosened style.
Finally, the style is only held
by the very tip ; then this gives way, and
the feather flies away with seed and style.
It flies on the wings of the wind, of
course, since it has none of its own.

In this way the geranium
seeds are sometimes carried
long distances. But this is
not the end of the story. At last
the seed with its coverings and
feather rests on the ground. The seed end is towards
the ground, and the very tip of the pod is provided

PELARGONIUM STORIES.

with a few short, stiff hairs, that point backwards
like the barbs on a fish hook or a bee sting.

Now what do you suppose these hairs are ^
for? Do you think their being there is a mere
accident ? Not at all. When the weather is damp,
the style, with the feather attached, curls up. Then
it acts like a gimlet and forces the pointed end of the
seed into the ground. When it becomes dry, the style
straightens out. But the seed cannot be pulled out
of the ground when this happens, because the barbs
on the tip of the seed-case hold it fast ! So it does
time and again. When it is damp, the seed is forced
deeper into the earth. When it is dry, the style
straightens out so as to be ready to curl up again.

You see how it is, do you not ? The pelargonium
is planting its seed.

Certainly the „, geraniums are good
parents. All ^^the members of this
astonishing j^r family vW, do some-

thing
sake of

for the

AN AFRICAN,

THERE 's a native of Cape Town
Always wears a scarlet crown.
Not a lord of high degree,
But a simple peasant he.

You will see him, if you look.
Resting in some sunny nook.
He 's no Boer nor Englishman,
But a native African !

He just wanders up and down
O'er the wilds of hot Cape

Town ;

Takes no part in strife or war, —
Does n't know what it is for.

Boers may fight if they must

needs.

Calm he sits among the weeds.
No soldier he in battle's hum,
But just a red geranium !

PELARGONIUM LEAVES.

SOME of the pelargoniums decorate their leaves
with horseshoes. All are in the habit of folding
their leaves fan-like in the bud. When they grow
large these folds straighten out. It is a good thing
to be folded up fan-like in the bud; the leaf then
takes up less room, and is kept snug and safe until it
grows strong enough to care for itself. The pelar-
gonium indulges in large stipules. These are green,
leaf-like bodies growing on the leaf stalk where it is
attached to the stem of the plant. They fold over
the young leaf and protect it; but after the leaf

comes out
stipules

of the motherly arms of the
and stands up on a long stem, the

gradually

and wither
away.

82 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

Most pelargonium leaves are covered with a fine
coat of hairs. In the warm countries where pelar-
goniums grow wild they need a coat of down to
prevent the sun from scorching them.

As long as there is plenty of water in the leaves
the sun cannot harm them, no matter how warmly
it shines ; but if it can draw out the water, then the
leaf must fade. The coat of hairs for one thing
prevents the water from evaporating too rapidly.
Thus the pelargonium does not wear its fuzzy coat
to protect it from the cold, but from the sun. The
hairs also prevent the rain or dew from stopping up
the breathing pores of the leaf.

Most pelargonium leaves have a habit of using
perfumery of one kind or another. They make it
themselves out of the food they find in the earth and
the air. The rose geraniums we think are particu-
larly successful in this respect.

Why do you suppose the pelargoniums perfume
their leaves ?

Perhaps it is to prevent animals from grazing
them, for animals do not like to eat strong-scented
things, even if to our senses the odor is agreeable.
If this is the reason, we are glad the pelargoniums
selected a perfume that we can enjoy.

We think there may be some such reason for the

PELARGONIUM STORIES.

fragrance of the pelargonium, because plants are
never wasteful. They make only what will be use-
ful to them in some way. They love to be beautiful,
but are never satisfied unless theirs is a useful
beauty. The fragrance of the leaves, however, may
be due to some cause and useful for some purpose
that we know not of.

THE GERANIUM FAMILY.

THE Geranium People are rather unsettled as to
their relatives — or, rather, we are somewhat con-
fused on the subject. Probably the geraniums know
all about it, but they will not tell the botanists, so
the botanists have to do the best c
they can by themselves.

Some say the tropaBolum belongs to the
Geranium Family, and it certainly
does bear quite a strong family re-
semblance to the geraniums.
They also say the Impa-
tiens Family is a branch of
the geraniums
and the pelar-

PELARGONIUM STORIES. 85

goniums, which you know we always call geraniums.
The crane's bills and herb Roberts and all their near
relations of course are geraniums, and some say the
wood sorrels belong to this distinguished family.

Whether these all belong to one family or not, one
thing is certain : they are all agreeable to us, and
are not so very numerous even when taken all
together. The whole of them do not number half
so many as do the branches of the Convolvulus
Family.

Like the race of white people, they belong princi-
pally to temperate climates.

They do not all belong to our climate, however.

The nasturtiums, for instance, are South Ameri-
cans and Mexicans. They like to keep warm better
than some other members of their family, and their
seeds cannot, as a rule, live through our cold winters.
But if we gather the seeds and put them away out of
the fierce winter cold and plant them in the spring,
then the nasturtiums will grow their best and please
us with their bright flowers. We cannot help liking
them, they are so jolly with their gay flowers and
their round leaves with twisting stalks.

We like them, too, because the flower stem curls up
and draws the seeds under the leaves out of the way
of the young buds that are waiting to bloom.

86 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

I do not know whether wild nasturtiums are as
large and bright as the cultivated ones. Very likely
not, as people have taken great pains to make them
large and bright by selecting the seeds of the largest
flowers from year to year and giving them good soil
in which to grow.

Perhaps the members of the Geranium Family we
really know best are the pelargoniums from the Cape
of Good Hope. It is about as warm in their African
home as it is in our Florida, so of course they cannot
live out of doors through our cold Northern winters.
But we take them in the house when cold weather
comes, and sometimes put them in the cellar.

Of course they do not grow much in the cellar,
but they rest there, and when they are taken out in
the spring are all ready to wake up and blossom.

The whole Geranium Family seems to take extra
care of its seeds.

We know how the nasturtium curls up its stem so
as to draw the seeds below the leaves out of the way,
giving the buds a chance to come out, and also pro-
tecting the seeds.

The pelargoniums do not do that, but they do
something much more elaborate for the sake of their
seed-children, as we know. They give them a para-
chute to fly with, for one thing. A parachute, you

PELARGONIUM STORIES.

know, is a contrivance by which bodies can be sus-
tained in the air while falling or blowing along in
the wind.

But the parachute is not all, — they give them an
auger by which to bore into the ground and plant
themselves.

The North American crane's bill
seeds perform in a very similar way,
their flowers and seed-cases being
quite like those of the pelargonium.

How do you suppose North Ameri-
can crane's bills came to be like South
African pelargoniums?

This is a matter which needs in-
vestigating.

The pelargoniums are not as juicy
as the nasturtiums, but they are
somewhat juicy, and their juice has
a slightly acid taste instead of being
pungent, like the nasturtium juice.

Where pelargoniums live out of doors the year
round they grow very large and have stems that are
quite woody.

Some of them, as we know, are useful to the
human race as well as ornamental, supplying food
and an oil highly esteemed as a perfume.

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

The wood sorrels do not look much like the rest
of the Geranium Family. But they do resemble it
in their habit of caring for their seeds. Out in the
fields you will find the small, yellow-flowered sheep
sorrel, with its clover-like, sour-tasting leaves. Now
hunt for a seed-pod. They are pretty little things
that stand up something like Christmas candles.
Touch a ripe one and it splits open down each of its
five cells and shows you a row of white seeds in each.
You think the seeds are not ripe because they are
white, and you touch one of them. What has
happened ? That seed surely exploded ! No, there
it is — the other side of the table, not white, but
dark brown. Queer performance, this. You touch
another and another, and at last you get to under-

stand it. Each seed is
elastic white covering, and
suddenly curls up,
much as the I impatiens
does, and N^ sends
the seed i within
it flying !

surrounded by an

this I it is that

very (

pod

PELARGONIUM STORIES. 89

When night comes the sorrel goes to sleep. Its
leaflets droop and shut together as you see in the
picture, and the flowers, too, close. The sorrel loves
the sunshine, and often does not open on cloudy days.

There are a great many sorrels in the world
Besides our sheep sorrel ; in fact, we are told there
i are about two hundred and five of them !

We have only three or four out of all that number,
.and they are not all yellow like the sheep sorrel.
f: 'One that lives in the cool Northern woods is white,
; with delicate pink veins. Pretty little things they
are, and farther South there lives a pretty violet one.

Like the pelargoniums, the sorrels are to be found
at the Cape of Good Hope. In fact, most of the
two hundred and five kinds live there and in South
America.

r ,

--Like the pelargoniums, too, the South African
sorrejs are much larger and brighter than their
American relatives.

We like them so well we raise them in our green-
houses and window boxes. They are much larger
than our wild sorrels and have bright pink or white
or yellow corollas.

Down in Peru, too, there grows a very useful
sorrel ; they call it " oca," and raise it for its potato-
like tubers which the people eat.

90 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

The Mexicans also have a sorrel with edible bulbs
and bright red flowers. In fact, the sorrel, like the
potato, has a habit of storing up plenty of under-
ground food which is also good food for man, and
several species of sorrel are raised for this purpose in
different parts of the world.

In those places, instead of a potato field you have
a sorrel field.

We often eat the leaves of the wood sorrel for the
sake of their pleasant acid taste. The proper name
of the sorrel is " oxalis," and comes from a Greek
word meaning "acid." But if we were to extract
this acid from the sorrel and then eat it, we would
have a serious time, for in its concentrated form it
is a fearful poison. It is sold under the misleading
name of " salt of lemons," and for this reason people
often ignorantly taste it, thinking that "salt of
lemons " can do them no harm.

This dangerous " salt of lemons " is very useful in
calico printing, in dyeing, and in the bleaching of
flax and straw.

The next time you come across a patch of sheep
sorrel, stop and think of all it and its relatives are
able to do for us.

We usually think of the Geranium Family as being
merely ornamental ; but, as we have seen, some kinds

PELARGONIUM STORIES.

of tropaeolum, several kinds of sorrel, and at least
one kind of pelargonium yield edible tubers which
are eaten in different parts of the world, and the
modest little oxalis yields a substance valuable for
manufacturing purposes.

Even our commonplace crane's bill
that blooms so abundantly in the woods
in early summer has something for us,
for from its roots a medicine is obtained.

HYACINTH STORIES.

THE HYACINTH.

OUT in the garden there 's some-
thing so dear !

Just as dear,

Do you hear ?
Something that comes in the

spring of the year

Fragrant as roses and fresh as the dew,
Purple and pink and violet too.

Something new,

Darling too.
Guess what it is and I '11 show it to you !

or-

SIGNS OF SPRING.

OUT of doors are signs of spring. The buds on
the trees look full, and some are beginning to burst.
But there is very little life as yet.

Only in the hyacinth bed it is different,
for there the hyacinths have waked up ;
their stiff leaves have opened the door of
the earth for the blossoms to come out.
The flower clusters are nearly ready to
bloom, but the buds are still green. The
tall stem has lifted them up into the air
and sunlight, and, although the air is still
cold, they continue to grow.

Soon the green buds undergo a change.
The topmost one on each flower cluster
softens to a tender blue or pink.

The green buds grow lovely as they
stand on their stems in the sun. Delicate tints
steal over them, the green color fades away, and
many colors take its place.

They open into charming flowers and give forth a

HYACINTH STORIES.

delightful fragrance. The whole garden is sweet
with the odor of hyacinths, and we feel that the
beautiful summer has sent us a messenger.

THE HYACINTH'S SCEPTRE.

KINGS bear a sceptre, and so do I.

Theirs is a symbol of power, and so is mine.

Theirs is a costly rod with an emblem at the top

Mine is a tall green rod bearing flower bells.

My sceptre is called a "scape."

" Scape " means u sceptre," the sign of kings.

TUNICS.

A TUNIC, as everybody knows, is a dress worn by
the old Romans. The Greeks wore a garment very
much like that of the Romans,
and it, too, is often called a tunic.

Tunics did very well in a climate
where it was always summer and
upon people who did not have to
hurry about and work hard. But,
graceful as they are, and appropri-
ate to Greece and Italy, they would
hardly be suitable for an American
business costume in midwinter.
For a tunic is not very close fitting.
It is a loose garment which would
be apt to fly away in our Northern
gales.

The tunic was sometimes con-
fined at the waist by a girdle and sometimes let to
hang loose.

We do not wear tunics, but we admire them very
much in pictures, for they show the beautiful lines of

100 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

the human form instead of concealing and altering
them and making them ugly by ridiculous and tight-
fitting clothes — very often tight in the wrong place,
as is the case with modern garments.

But there are tunics worn in America, and they
are never tight in the wrong place, though, truth to
tell, they are not loose and flowing like the Roman
or Greek tunic.

Perhaps you do not know that so commonplace an
object as an onion wears a tunic, yet I assure you it
is true. And the onion does not come from Rome or
Greece, — that is, probably not. As far as we can
find out, that homely vegetable first saw the light in
the southwestern part of Asia, but it was known in
Rome and Greece at a very early date, and lived
in those places long before it found its way to us.

So it has seen more tunics than we have, if it is
not a native Greek or Roman. Not that its garments
look at all like a classical tunic !

Probably its bulb is said to be " tunicated," or
covered with tunics, because the different scales wrap
about it like so many garments, and in a general
way the word " tunic " is used to mean any garment.

The hyacinth, too, has a tunicated bulb. It came
from the Levant, a country where people wear loose
garments like the Greek and Roman tunic. I do

HYACINTH STORIES. 101

not think, however, the bulbs are called " tunicated "
because they came from the lands where tunics are
worn. I think it is merely a name the botanists
gave them for convenience to tell that they were
covered by coats or scales.

What do you suppose a hyacinth tunic is, anyway ?
Merely a leaf scale ! That is, instead of growing
into a leaf it remained a scale, and some of the scales
on a full-grown bulb are really the lower parts of the
leaves. The upper part has fallen off and left the
fleshy base to feed the plant.

Tulips have tunics too, and so have many other
plants. And bulb tunics are a very convenient sort
of garment to have, for they not only wrap up the
plant, but feed it !

They answer the s£me purpose that tubers do on
potato roots. You know what tubers are? They
are just swollen portions of underground stems.
When you eat your next potato remember it is a
tuber, and that a tuber is merely a short piece of
stem very much thickened. If you cannot believe
this, look a potato in the eyes. There you will see
the truth, for the eyes are merely the joints of the
stem, and at each is a little bud that in the spring
will start to grow, just like the buds on the branches
of a tree. The bud grows at the expense of the

102

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

material in the tuber, and the hyacinth grows at the
expense of the food stored in the bulb. Of course,
after a while green leaves form and make more food,
but the very first food comes from the thick under-
ground scales.

The hyacinth belongs to the royal Lily Family,
and is a very great favorite with people all over the
world. Sometimes its flowers are single
and sometimes double, and they always give
forth a delightful fragrance. Its home, as
we know, is in the Levant, a country made
up of the islands and the coast along
the eastern part of the Mediterranean
Sea, particularly of Asia Minor and
Syria.

It grows so readily and comes up
so early in the spring and is so lovely
it is no wonder people everywhere
cherish it. Its bulb is large and
fleshy, and, as we know, is made up
of thick scales. These scales are full
of starch and other food materials to
feed the young plant.
For the young plant is in the very center of the
bulb, with the fleshy scales folded about it very much
as the scales are folded about a tree bud. In fact, a

HYACINTH STORIES. 103

bulb is very much like a bud. The bottom of the
bulb is a very short, broad stem. The scales grow
on this stem as the leaves do on a branch. They
are alternate in arrangement, but packed so closely
together you have to look very carefully in order to
discover that they are arranged like leaves on a stem.
After all, as we know, these scales are only modified
leaves. The bracts of the pelargonium are leaves
modified to protect the young buds, and the scales
of the hyacinth are leaves modified to protect and
feed the plant within.

For what do you think? At the very center of
the hyacinth bulb is a tiny flower cluster wrapped
about by half a dozen tiny leaves ! These are white
and delicate and very, very small. But in the spring
they grow and come out of the bulb in the form of
green leaves and bright flowers.

THE BEE.

I AM a rollicking bumblebee.
I sail through the air as it pleases me.
I sail by the trees and around the flowers ;
I love the sun and hate the showers.

I -have a taste does credit to me ;
I never eat bread and such fiddle-dee-dee.
For honey and pollen 's the sensible food ;
They favor digestion and suit the mood.

I sleep in my nest all winter long,

But rush fearlessly forth in the March wind's

song,
For I 'm sure there 's some one

waiting for me,
Since a hyacinth blue 's in love

with this bee !

104

106

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS.

NECTAR GUIDES.

THE bee is always in a hurry. She flies from
flower to flower as fast as she can.

She sees the flowers far off and comes straight to
them, choosing the brightest. She
has learned that the bright flowers
hold much honey and often have
guides to the nectary, so that she
does not have to hunt about, but,
alighting on a flower, follows the
bright guide. Sometimes it is a
spot in front of the nectary and
sometimes a line leading to it. It
leads her at once by the shortest
path to the nectar, and since she
is in such haste, the nectar guides
are her good friends, helping her to save time.

107

CELLS.

CELLS are a matter of im-
portance.

To be sure there are cells

and cells, and some are
d^P) ^y

vy*/ much more important than

, — ^^^\ others. (^)

S* ( For instance, there are prison cells, more 's

N the pity, and anther cells and honeycomb cells
and ovary cells and many more like them. All these
are small, hollow spaces with walls around them.

But there is another kind of cell, more important
than all these others put together, and they are not
hollow and do not always have a wall.

Perhaps you are not very much interested in cells,
but you had better be in these we are going to talk
about, for they have a great deal to do with football
games and dancing and going to parties and picnics.
In fact, without them there could be no football and
no dancing and no parties nor picnics.

All these things depend upon cells. So we may as
well begin at once to find out what they are.

108

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 109

These cells that we are going to talk about are
alive. They are made of protoplasm. You do not
know what protoplasm is ? I can tell you it is time
you did then, for if it hadTiot been for protoplasm
you would not be in the land of the living. The
protoplasm made you ; so if you are not interested in
it, / think you ought to have been a cabbage or a
squash or a liriodendron or some other thoughtless
vegetable not expected to be interested in proto-
plasm.

Like a good many other interesting things, proto-
plasm cannot usually be seen by the naked eye ; it
is in such small quantities that it takes a microscope
to find it. And when you have found it, so far as
its looks are concerned, it would hardly seem to pay
for the trouble, for to the eye it is nothing but a
colorless, jelly-like substance. It looks more like
the white of an egg than anything else. But re-
member it is not safe to judge protoplasm or people
by looks alone.

Napoleon was small, and he was not handsome ;
yet if you had seen him, you would have seen the
greatest man living in the world at that time.

So when you look at protoplasm you see sonic-
thing very much more wonderful than it seems. In
fact, the great Napoleon himself owed his physical

110 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

life to protoplasm, as did also Shakespeare and Plato,
and every person who has ever lived, for protoplasm
is the only living matter in the world.

You cannot understand that all in a minute, but
you begin to see that protoplasm is rather important,
and as well worth knowing about as the latest
fashion in bicycles or sleeve patterns.

Sometimes a bit of protoplasm lives all by itself.
It is just a little speck of colorless, jelly-like sub-
stance. Yet it can do a number of things. One
little creature, which is only a bit of protoplasm, has
a name much larger than itself. We call it " Amoeba."
Rather a pretty name, on the whole, and very

uncommon. I doubt if you know a single person

by that name.

It is a name, too, that everybody ought to know.

Well, as I told you before, and shall probably tell
you a great many more times, for I do not want you
to forget it, the amoeba is only a bit of protoplasm.

Yet it can go about. You watch it some fine day
under your microscope and see it travel. It runs out
a little, thin bit of its body, so /orv and then the

(ti&ySp9

rest of the body sort of pulls ^-</ itself up to
that. In this way, by putting out little finger-like
projections and drawing the rest of the body up to
them, it can move quite a distance if you give it

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. Ill

time enough. You can imagine so changeable a
creature as the amoeba can scarcely be found twice of
the same shape, and how its friends recognize it is
more than I can tell. Suppose you were in the habit
of changing your shape whenever you moved, being
long and thin one minute, short and thick another,
having fourteen arms one day and none the next?
How could you expect people to know you when they
met you ?

But perhaps the amoeba has an unsocial nature
and does not care whether it is recognized or not.

Because it changes its shape so often the amoeba
has received its pretty name. For " amoeba," you
must know, comes from a Greek word meaning
" change."

It is sometimes called "Proteus" for the same
reason. Of course you know all about Proteus, the
sea god who lived at the bottom of the ocean and
paid homage to the great god Neptune, who was ruler
of the seas. Proteus took care of the sea calves, and
he had a queer way of changing his shape whenever
he chose. He used to go to sleep on the rocks while
the calves were sunning themselves, and because he
was very wise and could help people who were in
trouble, they used to go there and catch him. But
he was not as friendly as he was wise, and would

112 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

never tell anything unless forced to; and when he
found himself a prisoner, he would at once change
his form, and so try to escape by frightening his
captors. He had a pleasant habit of all at once
changing into an enormous serpent and opening a
mouth full of frightful teeth ; then, if that did not
frighten badly enough, he would all at once turn into
a bull or a raging fire or a fierce torrent. He has
been known to change into a dozen dreadful things
in as many minutes, so no wonder his name has come
to mean " something that changes." And no wonder
the amoeba is called " proteus," not that it indulges
in any such outrageous transformations as the sea
god, for it never does anything worse than change
the shape of its own little jelly-like body.

Although it can move along, I do not think it
would amount to much in a race, as it only moves a
few inches in the course of a day ; still that is a good
deal, considering its size.

A great deal depends upon size in this world.

You could go as far in ten seconds as a snail could
in as many hours. The distance would not count for
much as far as you are concerned, but it would be a
good day's work for the snail. So when an amoeba
travels a few inches, that counts for as much in its
life as a long day's walk of a good many miles would

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 113

in yours, or as a few hundreds of miles on a railway
train.

The amoeba can do more than travel. If you
touch one it will shrink together, showing that this
little bit of protoplasm has a sort oifeelmg power.

When it is hungry it eats. For an amoeba can
get as hungry as anybody.

Hunger does not depend upon size. You can get
as hungry as an elephant, although you cannot eat
as much. You would starve to death, too, as soon as
an elephant, perhaps sooner. An amoeba no doubt
gets as hungry as you do, and it certainly would
starve to death if it did not have something to eat.

How can it eat without a mouth ? Just as easily
as it can travel without feet. You do not know
protoplasm if you think it cannot eat when it is
hungry. Very likely the reason it travels about is
because it wants to find something good to eat. It
does not care for roast turkey and cranberry sauce,
nor for apple pie and plum pudding.

That is not what it is looking for. It is looking
for some tiny speck of food smaller than itself.

It lives in the water, of course. It would dry up
if it were out in the air. You should think it would
melt in the water ? Well, it does not, any more
than a jellyfish melts. When it comes to some little

114 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

speck of dead plant or animal, or, for all I know,
to some living speck small enough, it proceeds to
eat it.

It glides over it in the way you know about, and
wraps the food speck up in its body. Then it draws
out all the good part of the food into its own sub-
stance and goes on, leaving behind the waste
particles.

Do you not think that, is a good deal for an
amoeba to be able to do ? But it can do more
than this ; it can divide itself in two and make
two amoebae out of one.

The little amoeba is called a "cell." After
awhile you will see why. The whole amoeba
is just one cell.

As to whether it is a plant or an animal
you will have to ask the amoeba, for I can-
not tell you. Some think it is a plant and
some say it is an animal.

I do not think it makes much difference which you
say it is.

A bit of protoplasm living by itself is called a
"cell.""

Many plants and animals have, like the amoeba,
only one cell. Very often the little one-celled being
has a thick outside wall. The protoplasm changes

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 115

part of the food into a hard substance, that is, it
builds itself a wall.

Very often cells live together in colonies instead
of living alone. In such cases, the first cell divides
into two cells, but the two stay together instead of
entirely separating. Then each of these two cells
divides again, and the four cells stay together, and
so it goes on until a large body is built up of many
cells.

The truth is, plants are only collections of cells
which have agreed to work together. Where there
is but one cell, it has to do all sorts of work; but
where there are many, some do one kind of work,
some another, — just as Robinson Crusoe, living all
alone on the island of Juan Fernandez, had to do all
sorts of things for himself : make his own shoes and
clothes, get his own food and cook it, build his own
house, and gather his own wood. But in a town
one set of men makes shoes, another chops wood,
another raises vegetables and grain, another grinds
the grain, and another bakes the bread ; then they
all exchange with each other, and everybody has
enough — or ought to have.

So in the plant made of many cells. One set of
cells makes hard walls to protect the plant. Another
set draws up water from the earth for all the cells

116 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

in the plant, for living things require a great deal
of water. Another set takes gas from the air and
changes it into food. Another set makes tubes for
the sap to flow through. Other sets do other things.
Each set of cells does something for the whole plant.

If you look at a leaf or a bit of skin from a stem
under a microscope, you will see they are built up of
cells, as a house is built of bricks. Only the cells
are not placed regularly like the bricks in a house,
and they are not solid like bricks. The walls of
these cells are sometimes hard and. sometimes soft,
sometimes tough and sometimes tender ; but the walls
were all built by the protoplasm that lived in them.
Sometimes the protoplasm leaves the little house it
has built and goes somewhere else.

Then the empty, wall -surrounded space is left like
a cell of honeycomb before the honey is put in, or an
anther cell after the pollen has fallen out and left
nothing in it.

Before microscopes were as perfect as they are
now, these empty spaces with their surrounding walls
were discovered. Even where the cells contained
protoplasm the microscope was not strong enough
to reveal it, so only the cell walls were seen.

It was soon known that plants were built up of
these little compartments, and because they resembled

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 117

cells in being small and shut in by walls, they were
called " cells." After awhile it was discovered that
the living part of the plant was the colorless, jelly-
like protoplasm which lived in the cells.
Yet later, particles of wall-less protoplasm
were found building up plants and animals.
What were these soft little protoplasmic
atoms to be called ?

The plant was really built up by them,
and only part of them had walls, so they
were called by the name the people had
already given to the walled spaces which
they supposed built up the plant, and so got
the name of "• cells," which is not at all an
appropriate name.

There is nothing quite so easy as to be
mistaken, you see, and the botanists, having
seen that the plant was built of little com-
partments, and never suspecting the presence
of the living protoplasm lurking in some of
them, had called the compartments "cells";
later, when the protoplasm was discovered
to be the real builder, the old name was kept. So
you see how the amoeba came to be called a "cell."

There are a great many different kinds of cells in
one plant.

Some of the cellt
one plant.

118 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

But every living cell has very much the same
powers as the amoeba, though in many of them some
one power is developed at the expense of all the rest.
In this way different sets of cells are able to perform
different kinds of work, and do it very well indeed.

The amoeba is not the only single-celled creature.
There are a great many different kinds of single-
celled plants or animals, and some of them take very
curious and beautiful forms, with streamers floating
about them.

Such are not protean, like the amoeba; they do
not change their shapes.

Plants are not the only things that have cells.
Animals, too, are built up of them. Animal cells
are usually softer than plant cells, because they very
often have no hard walls. Bone cells of course have
hard walls, and there are others, but most of the
animal cells are without walls.

So you see all living things are built of cells, and
the living part of the cells is the protoplasm.

You yourself are built up of millions of cells, and
without the help of protoplasm you would not be
living, for protoplasm made your cells, and proto-
plasm is the only thing in you that is alive. Your
muscles are made of muscle cells, and the protoplasm
in them moves, and when the muscle cells all move

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 119

together, that moves your arm or your leg or your
head or some other part of your body.

Since your muscle cells devote themselves to mov-
ing, they do not try to do much else ; so other cells
digest the food which the blood carries to the muscle
cells. Yet other cells build a good thick skin to pro-
tect the soft muscles, and yet another set of cells
thinks for the muscles, and tells them where and when
and how to move. Each set of cells has its own work.

Your brain is made up of nerve cells, and the pro-
toplasm in them in some way enables you to think
and feel. Your bone cells are hard and resisting,
your sinew cells strong and flexible. So each part
of your body is made up of different kinds of cells.

But what has all this to do with football and
parties and picnics you would like to know?

Why, a great deal,
to be sure. If it were
not for cells and
protoplasm there
would be no people.

And how could
you have football
games and picnics with-
out people, I should like
to know ?

POLLEN CELLS.

IN the dark little dungeon cells of the anthers, the
pollen grains lie. Hundreds, and some-
times thousands of them, are packed in
there as closely as they can be. But
they do not mind it, not in the least.
They grow and get ripe, and as soon as
this happens, their prison door opens

out they pour.

They are funny little things, not
at all what they seem to be. For you
would think they were just little specks
of dust of almost no shape at all. But that is
your fault, or rather the fault of your eyes.

You see your eyes were not meant to
look at things so tiny as pollen grains.
You can see a common ball or even a
small shot very well indeed ; but when
it comes to pollen grains you are as
blind as a mole. You will have to put
on your spectacles to see that, I can tell
you, and very powerful spectacles they will have to

120

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 121

be, too. The best spectacles for you to look through
are the ones we call a microscope. * Just put your
eye to that tube and you will see what you will
see, for there are pollen grains at the other end —
pollen grains from several kinds of flowers ; there
are some in the corner from our friend the morning-
glory. And now you know what I meant when I
said you could not see a pollen grain ; for those little
specks of dust have all at once become large and
important objects. Some are round and some are
not, and all are creased or pitted or ridged or covered
with little points or marked in some other way.
Now you see why they stick so easily to the hairs on
the bee or the butterfly or whatever comes visiting
the flowers for nectar. They are not smooth, but
all roughened over by these ridges and points.

And this is not the end of it. You have not yet
seen a pollen grain. You have only seen the outside
of one.

For it has an inside. You think it is too small to
have anything inside of it ?

I can tell you things much smaller than that have
something inside of them. The truth is, these things
seem so small because we are so large. If we were
as small as they, they would not seem small at* all.
They would seem a very ordinary size indeed, and

122 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

we would expect them to have an outside and an
inside. *

The truth is, pollen grains are hollow. They are
as hollow as the baby's rubber ball. But they are
not empty. The baby's rubber ball is not empty;
it is full of air. These pollen grains are not full of
air. If you were to see what is in them, you might
not think it very important, but that would be a
great mistake, for they are full of — protoplasm !

The truth of the matter is, the pollen grain is a
cell ; it has a wall outside and is made of protoplasm
inside.

Protoplasm, you remember, is the material out of
which every living thing is made. You are made
from protoplasm yourself ; flowers are made from it,
too, and leaves and birds and everything that lives.

So you see if a pollen grain is filled with proto-
plasm, that is rather a serious matter.

This pollen grain, small as it is, has a tough outer
skin. It is not as tough as leather, but it is tough
for so small a grain, and is strong enough to keep
the protoplasm from running out.

The protoplasm in the pollen grain is what the
ovule needs to nourish it and make it able to grow.
The ovule, too, is a cell filled with protoplasm, and
the protoplasm of the pollen and of the ovule must

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 123

somehow come together before the ovule can do any
more growing.

You know how the bees and butterflies and all
sorts of insects carry the pollen from flower to flower
and dust the stigmas with it. You may think that
when a pollen grain is safely landed on a stigma then
the rest is easy enough. But if you suppose the
pollen grain can pass through the style you are very
much mistaken. It cannot even pass through the
stigma. It is true, the tissues of both style and
stigma are rather loose, and that the style is some-
times hollow. But, as far as I know, the pollen never
passes through. Small as it is, it is too large to get
through the tiny openings in the stigma, and then,
you know, the stigma is sticky and holds it fast.

Here is an interesting state of affairs ! The ovule
cell is waiting for protoplasm, and the pollen cell is
anchored safe and fast at the stigma.

But you may be sure there is a way out of this
difficulty.

To begin, the pollen grain has two coats, a tough
outer one and a delicate inner one. There are open-
ings, or at least weak places, in the outer coat, and
after the pollen has lodged on the moist stigma, the
protoplasm inside swells and comes bulging through
these weak places. The inner coat is forced out, as

124 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

though some extremely small fairy had stuck her

finger through the wall from the inside and pushed

out a part of the inner lining. Well,

this finger-like part that comes through

the wall does not break open, but begins

to grow. It grows longer and longer

until a tube is formed, a tube so small

that only the microscope can enable us

to see it.

This tube pushes its way through the
stigma into the style; there it continues to
grow like a long root, only it is not a root,
and it is hollow ; and the protoplasm from
the inside of the pollen grain runs down this
tube.

You can guess what happens next. The
tube grows and grows; it finds plenty of nourish-
ment in the tissue of the style, which is made of
material suitable to feed it. Of course, it grows
down the style into the ovary, because the style
opens into the ovary.

When it reaches the ovary it finds its way to an
ovule, and goes in at a little door which the ovule
keeps open for it.

Now, you see, there is an open path between the
pollen grain and the ovule, and the protoplasm from

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 125

the pollen grain which has run down the tube enters
the ovule. Here it passes out of the tube by break-
ing through the delicate wall, and unites with the
protoplasm of the ovule.

Thus the ovule is fertilized. It is nourished and
strengthened, and at once begins to grow into a
seed.

Meantime the shell of the pollen lies on the stigma,
a little dried-up, empty thing. Its work is done.
Thanks to the bee or the butterfly or some other
flower-loving friend, it has been taken to the right
place, and all that was living in it, its protoplasm,
goes on living in the little ovule.

The pollen grains the bees carry home have a very
different fate. They are crushed and soaked and
kneaded with honey and fed to baby bees.

But the flowers are willing the bees should have
some to live on, and so each flower makes thousands
more than it needs. You see, if it did not give the
bees something to eat, they would not come and they
could not live on honey alone ; they, too, need the
protoplasm in the pollen to nourish them.

Some kinds of flowers use their own pollen. They
do not need the bees and do not want them. So they
keep their pollen shut up tightly and do not make
any honey to coax the bees to come. But nearly all

126 FLOWERS AND THEIR FR1JSXDS.

flowers wish to have other pollen than their own.
And this they can only get by the help of other
people's wings, as they have none of their own.

THE POLLEN.

WHAT does the pollen do ?

It helps the ovule change to a
seed.

It feeds the bees and the wasps
and the flies.

But above all, it helps the ovule
change to a seed.

127

THE ANTHERS.

ANTHERS, anthers, full of pollen,
Cunning cupboards of the bee,

Stamen flour amply hiding,

What have you for me, for me ?
What have you for me ?

Pollen have I, plenty of it,
Pollen for my darling bee ;

Pollen every day I blossom
For my bee, but none for

thee,
For thee, none for thee.

128

OVULE CELLS.

You will be glad to know that the little
ovules at the heart of the morning-glory and
of all other flowers are single cells.

They have an outside wall and are filled
with protoplasm.

When a pollen cell is formed from the in-
side of the anther, it separates and is no
longer connected with anything. This is not
the case with the ovule. It is fastened to
the ovary by a little stem, for it will stay
there and grow; and it must have a way to
get food from its parent plant. It gets the
food through this little stem.

w »

You know what happens when the flower i\
opens.

The bees bring pollen, and the protoplasm
of the pollen joins that of the ovule. As soon
as this happens the ovule begins to change.
We say it grows. It gets the food to grow on
from the mother plant through the little stem which
is fastened to the inside of the ovary.

129

130 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

The protoplasm in the ovule first divides and
makes two cells instead of one. These two cells do
not entirely separate from each other. They stay
together to do their work. Soon each of them
divides into more cells. These cells again divide,
and this continues until a great many cells are
formed. Meantime the ovule has increased in size
as well as complexity, and its cells do several differ-
ent kinds of work. In the morning-glory, for instance,
some build a hard outer wall about the young plant ;
this is the seed-case. Other cells form two little
leaves ; others make a little stub of a stem. So the
change goes on until the single-celled ovule becomes
a many-celled seed with a young plant rolled up
under its walls. If you open a morning-glory seed
you can see this little baby plant, only you will have
to soak the seed first to soften the food that is stored
about the young plant.

The cells made this food to nourish it, and it stays
dry and hard until the rain moistens it in the spring,
when it gets soft, like boiled starch, and is then ready
for the little plant to use. When the ovules grow on
one plant and the pollen comes from another, the seeds
will contain the protoplasm of two different plants.

Now protoplasm remembers the plant it came
from, and tries to make the new plant like it.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 131

The ovule protoplasm tries to make the seed
remember the plant it grows on, and the pollen
protoplasm tries to make the pollen remember the
plant it comes from.

So if the pollen comes from a plant bearing white
flowers, it wants the seeds to grow into white-
flowered plants. But if the ovules which ferti-
lizes it grow on a pink-flowered plant, they try to
make the seeds grow into pink-flowered plants.
Now what happens ? Very likely some of the
flowers will be white and some of them pink.
Some will take after the plant the pollen came
from and some after the one the ovule came from.

But sometimes the flowers
will be a mixture of both
r<4^ plants and will be pink and

132 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

The ovule is the mother part of the plant and the
pollen is the father part, and sometimes the seed-
children take after the mother, sometimes after the
father, and sometimes after both.

This is very strange and we cannot quite under-
stand it. How can the protoplasm remember the
exact shade and color of the plant it came from?
How can it make seeds that grow into plants just
like the old plants?

Protoplasm, you are a great, a very great
mystery !

By knowing about pollen and ovules we are able to
help form a great many lovely new flowers and fruits.

We get variegated flowers by fertilizing a flower
of one color with pollen from a flower of another
color.

When we do this we must cover over the plant
with a piece of netting just before it blossoms, so
the bees and butterflies cannot get ahead of us and
fertilize the plant. Then we must put a bit of
pollen from one flower on the stigma of the flower
we want to experiment with.

We must always use the pollen from the same
kind of a plant, however.

It would be of no use to put nasturtium pollen
on a morning-glory stigma, for instance, for it could

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 133

not affect the ovule in the least. The protoplasm
knows in some way its own plant and will not fer-
tilize any other.

This is a very good thing, otherwise we might
have a funny mixture of all sorts of plants.

Many delicious fruits have been produced by
fertilizing one plant with pollen from another.

New varieties of grapes and berries are constantly
obtained in this way.

If you live on a farm or have a garden, you might
try to develop some new kinds of berries or fruits.
You might not succeed, but it would do no harm
to try-

CHLOROPHYLL.

CHLOROPHYLL is plant
green.

That is what the word
means.

We are so used to seeing
green leaves that we think very
little about it.

It probably never has occurred to
most of us that the green coloring-
matter of plants can be of much
importance. Yet it is one of the
most important things in the world.
Like many other things, it is not
what it seems. It is not merely a
dye as one might suppose, but
much more than that.

We cannot really see what
it is without a microscope,
and when we look at a piece
of green leaf through the microscope we are sur-
prised to find the leaf is not green at all.

134

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 135

It is colorless like glass, but in the cells just
behind the skin cells we see little roundish green
bodies packed away. These are the chlorophyll
grains, and when there are a great many of them
close together they show through the skin and make
the whole plant green.

The skin protects them, you see, and yet it is
transparent and allows the light to get to them,
which is a matter of great importance to the chloro-
phyll grains, for they are hard workers, but cannot
do a single thing without sunlight.

Chlorophyll grains lie just behind the skin cells
in all parts of the plant that look green. The cells
they lie in are often long with their short
ends towards the skin. Leaves contain
several layers of chlorophyll cells. The
inner ones are not long like the outer ones,
and do not contain so many chlorophyll
grains. In the illustration, a, a represent the upper
and lower skin and b the cells containing chlorophyll.
The under side of a leaf usually has fewer chlorophyll
grains in its cells, for the light is not so bright there,
and chlorophyll needs plenty of light.

Sometimes the cells in the middle of a leaf, that
is, halfway between the upper and lower surfaces,
have no chlorophyll at all.

136 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

Now what do you suppose is the work the chloro-
phyll grains have to do ?

You never could guess, so I may as well tell you
at once. If it is not making sugar, it is something
very like it. To begin at the beginning, which is a
long way from sugar, but which will certainly bring
us to it, I must tell you that these little round green
chlorophyll people have a strong attraction for car-
bon dioxide, which you know is a gas and is always
found in the air. You know, too, we breathe it out
as an impurity. Probably you did not know it had
anything to do with sugar, but it has a very great
deal to do with it.

The chlorophyll grains attract carbon dioxide as
strongly as a magnet attracts bits of iron. The
carbon dioxide in the air goes through the pores
in the leaf skin, right through everything to the
cell where the chlorophyll lies. You know carbon
dioxide is made of carbon and oxygen. The plant
needs a great deal of carbon, for nearly all its hard
parts are made of it. Wood for one thing is nearly
all carbon.

As soon as carbon dioxide comes where chloro-
phyll is, the chlorophyll, which of course is chiefly
made of protoplasm, tears it to pieces. It pulls
the carbon away from the oxygen and the oxygen

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 137

rushes out through the pores back into the air.
But the carbon stays behind.

You see oxygen is a gas and carbon is a solid.
When carbon and oxygen unite in a certain way,
they make another gas, our carbon dioxide.

It is very queer that carbon should have the form
of a gas when united with oxygen, and I cannot ex-
plain it here. You must just remember that it is so.

When the oxygen flies away into the air again
and leaves the carbon behind, the work of the
chlorophyll has but just begun. Raw carbon is of no
use whatever, — no more use than carbon dioxide,
which we know is good for nothing to the plant or
else the chlorophyll would not tear it to pieces.

But if the chlorophyll can only get a little water,
something worth while will happen. This it can
always do, as the roots take good care to send it
plenty.

Water, you know, is made of two gases, hydrogen
and oxygen, united together.

Here, you see, gases unite and make a liquid.
Well, chlorophyll has a way of its own of uniting
the carbon it took away from the carbon dioxide
with the hydrogen and oxygen it gets from the
water and forming a solid, which the plant cannot
live without.

138

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

Now what do you suppose this new solid is ?
Probably you never could guess.
It is starch, just starch !

Chlorophyll makes starch out of carbon, hydro-
gen, and oxygen.

Sometimes it makes sugar and oil out of them,
but its work is most generally starch-making.

The carbon, you remember, it gets from the car-
bon dioxide of the air, and the hydrogen and oxygen
from the water the roots send it.

The strangest thing about all this is, chlorophyll
is the only thing that can make starch.

Perhaps you do not think starch worth making
such a fuss about. But wait a moment.

There is more to starch than you
ever dreamed of. Really and truly, if
it were not for starch you would not
day, and I would not,
nobody would.

All our lives
depend upon
starch. So
when we come
right down to
the truth, our
lives depend

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 139

upon chlorophyll, because that makes all the starch
there is in the world.

You do not think our lives depend upon starch ?
Wait and see.

Chlorophyll makes starch. Never forget that as
long as you live. Forget your own name if you
want to, but do not forget that chlorophyll makes
starch.

You see starch is the raw material of which
plants are made.

After the chlorophyll has made starch, the starch
is dissolved, or melted you would likely say, and so
is carried all over the plant in the sap. Some parts
of the plant change the starch into sugar ; for sugar
is made of the same things as starch, only in it the
carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen are put together a
little differently, just as you can make several kinds
of cake from flour, butter, sugar, milk, and eggs by
stirring them together differently and mixing them
in different proportions.

You cannot make cake without flour, sugar, eggs,
and milk, and usually butter. But if you have
these ingredients you can make a great many kinds
of cake.

Starch is the material of which the plant makes a
large part of its substance.

140

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

Some parts of the plant that need sugar make it
from the starch, and we find more or less sugar in
all plants. There is, as you know, a great deal in
the nectar of flowers, but other parts of the plant
need it too, so sugar is a matter of importance to
plants as well as to people. But sugar, remember,
is made generally from starch, no matter in what
part of the plant we find it.

The sweet sap in the sugar maple is made from
starch; so is the sweet juice of the sugar beet and
of the sugar cane. All the sugar we use, except-
ing that in homeopathic pills, is made from starch.
The sweet juice of fruits, berries, apples, peaches,
oranges, contains sugar, which the plant has made
from starch. In green fruit the starch has not
yet been changed into sugar, so it is not
pleasant to the taste.

Some parts of the plant need
thick walls, like wood or bark,
and these are made by the proto-
starch ; they are not sugar,
a very tough, firm
unlike sugar that

plasm from
however, but
substance so

you wonder how it can ^^-^^ be made of tlie
same materials. But it is, \^ "^^k for starch
is the substance from which both are made.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 141

There are other things in the plant besides starch,
and there are things which are not made from
starch; for instance, there are acids and minerals of
different kinds and there is protoplasm, but the
greater part of every green plant is formed from
starch.

Some plants make more starch than they need at
once, so they store it away for future use, just as
people raise extra supplies of wheat and corn, and
store them away until they want them.

The potato plant, for instance, stores a large
quantity of starch in the potatoes underground. A
potato is nearly all starch, and the sweet potato
stores up sugar as well as starch in its underground
parts.

The potatoes have a reason for this, and, if let
alone, would use up the starch and sugar another
season ; but we do not let them alone, as you know.
We too need starch, and so we dig up the potatoes
^and eat them instead of leaving them for the plant.

A great many plants store up starch in their
seeds that the young plant may have food enough
to start growing. All our grains do this. Wheat,
rye, oats, barley, rice, corn, and all other grains are
only the seeds of plants which have been stored full
of starch. Peas and beans are also starch-filled

142

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

seeds. Cabbages store food made from starch in
their big thick leaves. Beets store sugar and other
starch -food materials in their thick roots ; so do car-
rots and parsnips and turnips. Onions store it in
their bulb leaves underground.

You begin to see now how important starch is

to our lives. Nearly all the vegetables and grains
and fruits we eat are composed almost entirely of
starch or the materials of starch. Even meat is
made from starch, for what do the animals we kill
for meat live on ?

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 143

Why, plants of course, and chiefly the starch they
find in plants.

So now we are just where we started, — we see
we really do owe our lives to starch, and we owe
starch to chlorophyll, so of course, we owe our lives
to chlorophyll. I wonder if we shall think of this
next time we look at the green leaves everywhere
in the fields and woods.

I wonder if these green leaves will not look more
beautiful than ever when we think of the work they
are doing.

ROOT CELLS.

ROOTS do their work underground as a rule.
You might prefer not to be a root, if you had
your choice; you might prefer to be a leaf or a
flower.

I have never heard that the roots com-
plained of their work, however. For one
thing, it is easier. All they have to do
is to hold the plant fast, suck up juices
from the earth, and in some cases store
away food material, — that is, if they are
regular, well-behaved, everyday, under-
ground roots.

Sometimes, however, roots come out of
the ground and do all sorts of things, —
cling to walls and hang in the air and
perform in other unroot-like ways ; but
these are not what we are talking about.
We are talking of roots, such as those of the
morning-glory and nasturtium and geranium, which
stay underground and behave themselves.

144

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 145

Since it is dark where they live, they have no
chlorophyll grains, and do not have to make starch.
They merely use up the starch that comes to them
from above.

Since they are not blown about by the wind, they
do not need complicated, stiff, supporting tissues like
tree trunks. On the whole, they are rather a simple
people. They are made of cells, of course. But
there are not so many kinds of cells in them as in
the stems and leaves.

They have skin cells, but no pores. Out of their
skin cells grow their most interesting and important
parts. These are called root hairs. They are made
of cells lying next each other, like other hairs, but
they do all the sucking up of food materials for the
whole root. These root hairs draw the water and
other food out of the soil for the use of the plant,
and the rest of the root only stores it up and con-
ducts it to the stem and leaves above and anchors
the plant to the ground.

The root's work as an anchor is important, as you
can imagine.

Just suppose that plants had no strong roots
twisting around stones and bits of earth under-
ground and holding them fast ! What a time there
would be whenever the wind blew.

146 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

Even a light breeze would be worse than a cyclone
at present, for it would send the wheat in the wheat-
fields flying before it.

All the plants would go hurry-skurry wherever
the wind blew — excepting the morning-glories and
others that were twined about trellises or fences or
rocks ; and even they would be blown all out of
shape.

And when a strong wind came, if the trees had
no roots to anchor them they would go hurry-skurry
in the direction in which the wind blew, even if they
were balanced so that they could not fall over ; and
we should see the forests sliding about the country
and probably right on our houses, knocking them
down, so we would not be able to have any houses,
but would have to live in caves. It is a very good
thing for us that the plants are held fast by their
roots.

Well, the root hairs do the most important work
of the plant after all. It is they who go poking
their noses through the soil, and with their cells
draw up water and potash and nitrogen and sul-
phur and iron and many other things which have
become dissolved in the water. They are even able
to dissolve rocks and such delicacies for themselves.

Now a growing root tip is a very delicate thing.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 147

You could not expect it to go. pushing its tender tip
through the hard earth without some kind of protec-
tion. And it does not : it wears a cap. This cap
fits over the tip of the root and is hard. The cap
is not alive, that is, the outside of it is not. The
growing part of the root tip is just behind the cap.

The root tip grows by adding on new cells and so
pushes the root cap ahead of it. The hard root cap
finds its way between the particles of earth and so
opens a channel for the growing root tip behind it.

The cap wears off on the outside as the bark does
on a tree, and, like that, is continually renewed from
the inside where the cells are alive.

Root cap.

SKIN CELLS.

SKIN covers over and
protects what is under-
neath. It is thin com-
pared with what it
covers, but it is im-
portant, as we discover when we lose
a piece of our own skin. A fluid sub-
stance or even blood oozes out, and
the spot where the skin is off is very
painful.

Plants have a skin too, and it does for them
what our skin does for us. It is tough and pro-
l|/' tects the soft inner parts and keeps the sap from
oozing out.

Skin, of course, is built up of cells. These cells
generally lie close together, touching each other,
except at certain spots, where there is an opening.
Skin cells are usually long and wide, and their
outer walls, as you would expect, are thicker than
the inside walls. The protoplasm builds up hard
material on the outside to protect the rest of the

148

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 149

leaf or stem. Leaves and young stems and roots
and flower parts all have skin.

The skin is alike in all in a general way, just as
all houses are alike in a general way. They all
have a roof, walls, partitions, doors, and windows,
though these are of different sizes and arranged
differently in different houses to suit the needs of the
people who live in them. So with plants. The skin
cells are different in size and shape and thickness
in different plants to suit the needs of the plants,
though in all there is a general resemblance.

Here is a row of skin cells
^-SN\ j \\^J^^- (a) w^n otner cells (b) back

•=k ^/^\ ff\ of them. See how thick the

skin cells are on the outside
"x> (c). They are very tough there
too. d is an opening between two cells, and all is
magnified several hundred times.

Sometimes there are several layers
of skin cells where the plant needs a
particularly thick skin ; a in the illustration is an
example of such a skin.

But it would not do to have an air-tight skin,
even for a plant.

Our own skins are full of holes, or pores, as you
know, to let out the extra water and other waste

150 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIEND 8.

materials in what we call perspiration. The plants
need such an arrangement as much as we do. So
in their skin we find pores. You see the plant
needs a great deal of water. The water is used in
making the substance of the plant. It is also used in
the sap to carry food about from place to place. Sap
contains a great deal of water in order that it may
flow easily. This water cannot all be used by the
plant, and when it comes up from the roots in the sap
a large part of it has to be got rid of by the leaves.
If the skin were solid, the water could not escape.
But you know what protoplasm can do.

If the skin needs pores, it will make them. And
this is how it does it.

If you peel off a bit of skin from the under side of
a leaf and put it under the microscope, you will see
something like this.

The round forms are the pores. The crooked
lines between are the edges of the cell walls, and
you are looking at them right through the
outer wall of the skin, which is transparent
like glass, otherwise you could not see the
edges of the partitions.

Let us look at these pores, or stomata as
we must call them, if we want to talk like
botanists.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 151

One of the stomata is called a "stoma"; stoma
comes from the Greek and means a " mouth," or
'"opening." These little mouths, or stomata, are
made of two cells lying close together. These cells
reach through the skin into an open space back of it.

There are open spaces between many of the inner
plant cells, and there is always one behind a stoma.
There are very few spaces between skin .cells,
excepting, of course, the openings between the two
cells of a stoma. The two cells which make a
stoma are called " guard cells," because they guard
the opening into the plant.

They are shaped, you see, something like half-
moons. When the plant is full of water these half-
moons swell ^f^f^ UP and their edges are drawn
apart — so . /^\$f

This, you see, makes an opening (x) into the plant.
This little mouth through the skin opens into the
space back of the skin, and this space connects
with other spaces all through the plant. Through
these stomata all parts of the plant can communi-
cate with the outer air. The extra water and 9ther
waste materials pass out through the open stomata
and air and other gases pass in and out.

Now, if the air outside is very dry and the earth
is dry so that the roots are not able to send up

152 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

much water, these wise little guard cells do not
swell up and separate.

They are too good gatekeepers for that. They
straighten out, their edges meet — so —
and the opening is closed.

Now the water cannot so readily escape and the
plant will not wither so soon. In dry climates the
stomata are often surrounded by hairs which pre-
vent too rapid evaporation ; these hairs are often
thick enough to make the plant look woolly. In
fact, many plants have hairs upon those parts of the
leaves where the stomata are found ; they not only
prevent too rapid evaporation, but also keep the rain
or dew from getting into the stomata and closing
them up. They hold off the water so that it cannot
wet that part of the leaf.

There are a great many stomata on one leaf, —
on some kinds as many as thousands to a square
inch.

Usually, among land plants, there are more on
the under side of the leaf, and in very dry places
all are on the under side. The sun shining on the
upper side would often cause too great evaporation,
so the stomata are found underneath. In very hot,
dry air there will be a little evaporation, even when
the stomata are closed.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 153

But when we come to look at leaves that lie on
the surface of the water, like water-lily leaves, of
course the stomata are all on top, as that is the
only part of the leaf the air can reach.

Many water plants have their stomata above, for
you see there is no danger of their water supply
running short.

It is very important for a plant to keep its pores
open and it is quite ingenious in contriving ways to
do this. Perhaps hairs are most frequently used.

They often cover the under side of the leaf where
the stomata are thickest, or are found in lines along
the leaf, when the stomata are distributed in this1
way.

But, you say, rain cannot get to the under side of
the leaf. No, but dew can. Dew wets the under
side of the leaf quite as much as the upper side,
for dew does not fall, as some people think, but is
deposited all over the surface of a cool object like a
leaf, for dew is nothing but the vapor
in the air which is deposited in the form
of water at night.

To see better how the stomata
work, here is a side view of one
closed (a) and one open (b).

Stomata, you see, are the doors

154 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

to the plant through which things pass in and out.
Not only water goes out through them, but also
other waste substances, such as oxygen and carbon
dioxide.

You must not suppose because so many things go
out at the doors that nothing goes in ; for air passes
in and also carbon dioxide.

Carbon dioxide passes out from the plant and in
from the air ! That seems curious, but you must
remember the plant has to use its stomata for both
lungs and mouths, — lungs to breathe out impure air,
which contains carbon dioxide, and mouths to take
in carbon dioxide, which is one of its principal foods.

Besides stomata, plant skin has other kinds of
special cells. These other cells form hairs or
prickles or scales or glands. The hairs, prickles,
and scales form on the outside of the skin, as you
can see by the illustration.

On the side of a regular skin cell the protoplasm

builds a small cell ; this grows long and divides

and makes two ; these may again divide, and so
on until the plant has as long a hair as it
needs. Sometimes the hair is made of but
one long cell.

Hairs, as we know, protect the plant from too
great evaporation and from changes of tempera-

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 155

ture ; they also keep the dew and rain from settling
in the stomata and filling them up so they cannot
do their work.

Here is a picture of four stomata,
growing about a hollow filled with hairs.
These hairs prevent the outside water
from running in and wetting the stomata.
Prickles and some kinds of hairs and
scales protect the outside of the plant
from animals. When the animals bite
the plant, these things stick into their mouths and
they are glad to let it alone.

If you want to be sure that prickles and hairs pro-
tect the outside of a plant, go take hold of a nettle !
Madam Nettle does not wish to be taken hold of
nor eaten nor touched by cows or sheep or any-
thing else.

skin has hairs on it that sting. The
very sharp and they are hollow.
There is a poisonous juice inside,
something the protoplasm has made;
and when the sharp end of a hair sticks
into your finger, the little turned-up
end breaks off, and the poisonous juice gets into
the wound and irritates and causes the finger to
swell a little.

So her
hairs are

156

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

There is a way to take hold of a nettle so that it
cannot sting. The little poison-filled hairs all point
up, as you see in the picture. So if you stroke the
nettle or draw your hand over it from root to tip,
it cannot hurt you. Your hand presses the hairs
flat against the stem and they cannot stick into you.
Sometimes hairs branch and make a thick net-
work, like felt, over the leaf. They do this in the
mullein, and here is a picture of mullein hairs very
highly magnified.

Prickles and scales are made
of cells as hairs are.

All parts of the plant above
ground and sometimes the roots
are covered with skin, but only the
parts above ground are covered
with hairs or prickles. Some
plants are abundantly supplied with these protec-
tions; others manage to get along without them.

Plants very often have glands in their skins.
These glands are merely cells which take certain
things from the sap and pour them out on the out-
side of the plant.

Glands secrete their fluids inside the skin cells,
and these fluids finally break through the outer wall
of the skin cell and so get to the surface, or else they

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 157

pass through stomata specially provided for them.
They sometimes cover the surface of the plant with
a sticky substance, as is the case with young birch
twigs.

Glands also secrete the gum or resin which
covers up the winter buds and keeps out the rain,
and which makes the young leaves of the cherry
shine so.

Some plants secrete wax which covers leaves or
stems or fruits. Bayberry berries are covered with
white wax, of which fragrant candles can be made.

Bayberry grows abundantly all along the New
England coast, and friends of Thoreau used to
make these fragrant candles as Christmas presents.
Whenever Thoreau went to visit them, he insisted
upon having a bayberry candle to go to bed by.

The bloom on cabbage leaves and on plums and
other fruits is made of tiny scales of wax.

Wax is a very
good substance to
keep the plant dry.
You may be sure the
plant knows this and
often uses it about
the stomata. You
see, the object is to

158 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

allow water to pass freely out of the stomata by
evaporation, but not, as a rule, to pass into them.
So the clever plants often have wax instead of hairs
as a protection to the stomata. It would not do at
all to let the stomata get closed up, so they are
always protected in some way. Sometimes little
projections grow out of the skin, close to the
stomata. The raindrops fall upon these little knobs
and stay there, instead of settling down into the
stomata. You see, the pegs are very small, and
when the rain falls on them there is a layer of air
below them which the water cannot displace, and
which prevents it from going any farther.

If you want to know just where the stomata are
situated in a leaf, plunge it in water, then shake
the drops off and notice what part of the leaf has
not been wet. Wherever the leaf is dry, there are
the stomata. In many plants, as, for instance, the
jewelweed, it is quite impossible to wet the leaf.
Soak it in water for an hour, and when you take
it out it is dry ! The parts that cannot be wet
usually have a silvery, glistening appearance. Put
the leaf in water and notice where it glistens; there
are the stomata, — sometimes all over the under
side of the leaf, sometimes in lines or patches, some-
times on both sides of the leaf.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 159

Wax, gum, and resin are not the only things
plant glands secrete. There are the glands in the
flower cups that secrete nectar. In some plants this
breaks through the delicate plant skin and runs
into and fills up the little hollows or horns we call
nectaries. In others the nectar is provided with
stomata by means of which it can escape from the
interior of the plant.

You may be surprised to learn that the flower
is not the only part of the plant that can secrete
nectar!

In some plants the stipules do it, and in some
even the stems.

This is not to call visitors to the flowers, but perhaps
to keep them away. Where ants trouble the flowers,
certain kinds have invented this very clever way of
stopping the unwelcome visitors. They do not want
the ants to take the honey from the flowers, so they
secrete honey on the leaves or stems, and the ants
take that instead of traveling on to the flowers.

Of course each living skin cell contains proto-
plasm. The protoplasm lies in a thin layer against
the walls and builds, builds, builds, until the skin is
thick enough.

When a good thick wall has been built, the proto-
plasm passes out through tiny openings in the inner

160 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

wall into the inside cells, where it goes to work
doing something else. The skin cells are then
empty of protoplasm; they are only filled with
air, and we say they are dead cells. Their hard
walls are a good protection to the plant. In stems
there is often a layer of thick cells behind the skin
cells which also protects. These are called cork cells.

All very young plants have their stems covered
with living skin.

Older plants, particularly woody ones, have their
stems covered with the tough, dead skin. And
trees have finally a thick layer of dead cork cells. In
tree trunks the skin cells have disappeared entirely.
The skin protected the young shoot ; then its empty
cells finally peeled off, as the cork cells formed
underneath and made a thick bark. The bark then
does the work of the skin. It protects the stem.
It becomes very thick sometimes, as layers are con-
stantly added beneath. The outside of the bark
keeps peeling and scaling* off.

Of course there are no stomata in bark. We find
them only in the living skin. Bark does not need
stomata, as it does not regulate the water supply.
The young green parts of the plant do that by
means of their covering of living skin. Living skin
is usually transparent like glass.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 161

It is tough and yet transparent. You see, the
light must get through it to the cells which lie
behind it.

There is usually no green color in skin. Some-
times there are other coloring materials, though not
as a rule.

The living skin covers the leaf or stem or other
part of the plant like a window of tough glass.
Even where the skin is several cells thick, the light
can pass through, just as it can through thick glass.

TUBE CELLS.

£E3

THE top of a tree is a long way from the
roots. Yet the leaves must have food from
the roots, and the roots must have food from
the leaves.

It is not an easy matter to move all this
food material up and down, you may be
sure.

I wonder how you would manage it ?

Why, you say, if I had to raise sap from
under the ground to the top of the tree, I
should certainly build some pipes and have
a pump at the top.

That is the way the plant has decided.
So pipes there are, plenty of them, — pipes
or tubes of many sizes and shapes.

You know how cells grow, lying next
each other. Well, tube cells are long and
contain protoplasm in the beginning. They lie
end to end. But, you see, it would not be very
easy for the sap to pass through millions of cell
walls on its way up.

162

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 163

So when the protoplasm has built a row of cells
with good thick walls, it passes out through thin
places or openings it has left in the walls. The
end partitions between the tube cells are thin and
break away, and lo and behold! we have a long,
strong tube with nothing in it but air. Up this
tube the sap creeps or down it the sap runs. A
great many of these tubes, which are as fine as
hairs or much finer in some cases, are needed in a
plant. They run all through the stems and out
into the leaves. They are collected into bundles,
and form part of the veins and the framework of
leaves. I do not know what the plant would do
without them.

But what makes the sap run up the tubes ?

Now you are asking questions! It took a long
time for people to find that out, for there is more
than one reason why the sap runs up.

For one thing, the root cells keep drawing in
water and other things, and the fluid already in is
pushed up by that behind ; so there is a sort of pump
at the bottom of the plant, you see, — a force pump.
The sun shining on the leaves and stems evaporates
the water above, and the water below then easily
takes its place ; so there is a sort of suction pump
at the top.

164 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

Then the tubes are so very fine that the fluid in
them tends to move up, just as water will soak up
into a towel if the fringe happens to get into the
water ; for you know that if you hang a towel so
that the fringe dips into a basin of water, after
awhile the whole towel will be wet, as a result of
what we call capillary attraction. For all these
reasons the sap creeps up the stems through the
tubes the cells have made.

Every plant has these tubes, from the tiniest weed
in the garden to the tallest forest tree. Although
so small, they are often very prettily marked by
lines and dots.

STRENGTHENING CELLS.

PLANTS need something more than cells of work-
ing protoplasm and something more than tubes, just
as we need more than flesh and blood vessels. /\

We would be in a sad plight if we had no bones
to keep us in place, and plants would be in a sad
plight if they had no — well, not exactly hones, but
something to serve the same purpose.

Think of the weight a tree has to bear. You
could not begin to lift the crown of a large tree, yet
the tree trunk has to hold it up in the air. Not
only that, — it has to hold on to it when the wind
blows, which is a much harder task. Even small
bushes and tender garden plants have quite a weight
to bear and quite a task to keep their leaves and
stems from being blown away. They could never
hold on to them if it were not for the wood and
other tough cells they have, — never in the world.

These wood cells and other tough cells are made
by protoplasm, of course.

The protoplasm builds them very much as it does
the tube cells, long and slender, as you see in the

165

166 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

picture at the beginning of the chapter, and then
when the hard, tough walls are all done, the proto-
plasm slips out and leaves the strong framework of
tough fibres to do its duty. This framework is not
only strong, it is elastic, so it can bend easily. If
it were not, the first strong wind or the first thing
that happened to bend the plant would snap it off
short.

You cannot break wood easily, and, if you do
succeed, it always bends more or less first. Some
wood bends more easily than others, as you know.
A willow twig can be tied into a knot, it bends
so easily.

Nearly all land plants have these stiffening cells.
They run out of the stems down into the leaves and
help make their framework of " veins." The tubes
and the strengthening fibres run along in bundles
side by side. You see this saves space. If the tubes
and strengthening fibres each took a different road,
that would not leave much space for the chlorophyll
and other working cells. But all the tubes and
fibres are closely packed together and run length-
wise, through the stem. All around these long
fibres are placed the other cells which are not long
and do not form tubes or fibres. Most of those
other cells in the leaf contain chlorophyll. They

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 167

contain protoplasm, and do the work of transform-
ing food materials into plant material.

WE AND THE PLANT PEOPLE.

WE live and the plants live. Proba-
bly neither we nor the plants spend
much time thinking about what we
owe to each other.

The plants are excusable for this, for they
are not great thinkers, at least so far as we
know.

But we owe so much to them, we ought
to stop and think about it once in a while.
We are indebted to them not only for the
food we eat, but for the air we
breathe.

We know about chlorophyll and the
starch it makes, and how this starch is
stored up in potatoes and wheat and corn
and rice and all sorts of food grains and
vegetables.

We know, too, how the roots suck up
substances from the earth which we need
in our bodies, and how they are stored
away with the starch or sometimes by

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 1G9

themselves. We know, in short, how all the food
we eat is made first or last by the plants. Not only
do we owe our food to the plants, but all animals do.

You see, animal cells are not able to take carbon
dioxide and water and ammonia and other gases
and minerals and work them up into living cells.

The plants have to do this for them ; and then
the animals eat the plants, for animal cells are able
to work starch and sugar and plant protoplasm over
into animal protoplasm, which can build all sorts of
animal cells. So all the animals in the world get
their food from the plant world. If the plants were
to stop living, all the animals in the world would
soon starve to death. The word "animals," you
know, means every living thing that is not a plant;
in this sense flies and bees and oysters and cater-
pillars are animals as well as dogs and cats and
such large creatures. Last of all, we ourselves are
animals.

So the animal world would be in a sad predicament
if anything should happen to the plants.

But there is mtire to thank the plants for than
food. That is a pretty large item certainly; but
what do you think of having to thank them for the
air we breathe as well ? Yet this we shall have to
do if we begin thanking them at all.

170 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

You know about oxygen, of course. It is one
of the gases that make up the air; and I may as
well remind you that air is composed principally of
oxygen' and nitrogen gases, — about four times as
much nitrogen as oxygen, but the oxygen is the
most important to us. We do not use the nitrogen
in the air at all probably. It serves the purpose of
diluting the oxygen, which would be too strong for
us if it were not mixed with nitrogen. But what
we do use is the oxygen.

That goes into our lungs, and some of it does not
come out again. It passes into the lung cells and
from them into the blood, and is carried by it all
over our bodies to all the millions of cells.

We need a great deal of oxygen, and if the supply
should be cut short we would die.

All animals need oxygen ; even the worms in the
ground and the fishes and oysters in the water must
have.it. So great quantities are being used up all
the time.

Now, you know, when the plants pull carbon
dioxide to pieces, they keep the carbon and return
the oxygen to the air. In this way we get it to
breathe.

But there is more than this to the matter in hand.
We are all the time breathing out carbon dioxide as

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 171

an impurity; so are all the millions upon millions of
animals in the world.

The air might in time contain enough carbon
dioxide to kill us if there were not some way of
getting rid of it. You know what that way is.

The plants use it up. So by giving oxygen into
the air and taking out carbon dioxide, the plants
keep the air fit for us and all animals to breathe.

But there is more than this we have to
thank them for.

They shade the earth and regulate
the rainfall and the water supply.

Where forests grow there are
always streams of water, and the
large water courses are kept full
the year round.

The Mississippi Kiver de-
pends upon the far-away forests
for its broad stream.

The spreading crowns of the trees shade the earth
and prevent the water which falls as rain or dew
from evaporating rapidly. It collects into streams
and flows through the land, keeping the earth fresh
and beautiful.

More than this, — large forests cause the rain to
fall and the dew to collect. Their leaves condense

172 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

the moisture in the air and cause it to fall as rain or
be deposited as dew.

When people recklessly cut down the forests in
a country, the water courses dry up, and even the
largest rivers are affected.

When the spring rains fall over a country whose
trees have been cut away, the water rushes down
the little streams all at once and causes a terrific
flood in the large rivers. It soon drains away ; then
the rivers fall lower and lower until they nearly dry
up. This state of affairs is a great calamity, because
the people can no longer raise crops on the land
near where the old forests stood, for it is parched
and dry months at a time.

Moreover, boats laden with coal and grain and all
sorts of things can no longer pass up and down the
rivers, because the water is too low.

People ought to think of these things and not
destroy too much forest land. After awhile we
shall have to go to work and plant trees instead of
cutting them down or burning them ; but it takes a
long time for trees to grow, and a wiser way would
be for us to take care of those we have.

You have heard a great deal about plants eating
and the good they do us by eating the carbon dioxide
in the air. They take this in through their leaves,

STOltJES ABOUT ALL SOJSTS OF TH1SGS. 173

and you remember they take in all their other
food materials — water, nitrogen compounds, sodium,
potassium, magnesium, and many other substances
— through their roots.

But they do more than eat ; they also breathe.

They breathe everywhere over the surface of their
bodies where there are stomata or where the skin is
not too thick for the air to penetrate it.

And I must tell you they breathe just as we do, —
that is, they take in air, use the oxygen, and give off
the carbon dioxide.

It seems rather inconsistent of them to take in
carbon dioxide as food and throw it off as a waste
at the same time, but that does not trouble them;
they do not care whether they are consistent or
not. And it is true they take in carbon dioxide
and give off oxygen, and take hi oxygen (in the
air) and give off carbon dioxide, in one breath as it
were.

You see, it is different parts of protoplasm at
work that does this; one part — that in the chloro-
phyll bodies — is attracting carbon dioxide, breaking
it up, and casting out oxygen. Other protoplasm
in the cells outside the chlorophyll bodies attracts
and uses the oxygen, while the carbon dioxide comes
to the stomata from different parts of the plant as a

174 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

waste material, just as it comes to the cells of our
lungs to be cast out.

So plants, by breathing, make the air a little
impure, but they destroy or break up so much more
carbon dioxide than they make that on the whole
they act as powerful purifiers of the air.

When we think of the great forests of the tropics,
all overgrown with luxuriant vegetation, we may
remember that those tangles of vines and trees and
strange growths are our friends no less than the
grass and bushes in our dooryard.

For there is a carrier always at work bringing the
pure air to us and carrying away the impure air
which we create. This carrier is the air currents.
The great winds sweep about the earth, bearing the
oxygen from the forests to the crowded cities, and
sweeping away the carbon dioxide from the cities to
the fields and woods. The winds, too, stir up the
water where the water plants and fishes live, and help
keep it full of air for the things in it to breathe ; the
tides and currents help, so as far down in the water
as there are living things, you may be sure there is
air for them to breathe. There wrould not be air
enough for you, because you need so much ; but for
them there is plenty.

Swirling around the earth go the winds, carrying

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 175

the oxygen to the people and the carbon dioxide
to the plants, for the plants are as glad to get the
carbon dioxide we breathe out as we are to get the
oxygen they give off.

And we are glad, when we come to think about it,
that we are able to give them something in return
for all they give to us.

You see, we need each other, — plants and people,
and the winds are friends to us both.

WHAT ARE THE FLOWERS MADE OF?

I THINK flowers are " made of sugar and spice and
everything nice." At least, if it is not
that, it is something very like it, as I
have good reason to believe.

What flowers and all other parts of the
plant are made of depends upon proto-
plasm ; and if protoplasm can make sugar
and spice and build up flowers that way,
we should like to know it.

We do know about sugar and how
the little green chlorophyll people run
their starch factories in all the green
parts of the plant, — under the skin of
stems sometimes as well as of leaves,
for wherever a stem is green, we may
be sure chlorophyll is at work making starch
in it. And we know how the protoplasm in
the different cells changes the starch into
sugar.

We know, too, how wood and other tough
substances are made of starch.

176

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 177

But there is something else in plants as important
as starch and very different, — the protoplasm.
Protoplasm itself is not made entirely of starch;
it requires materials not found in starch.

These materials are nitrogen, sulphur, and phos-
phorus.

Nitrogen is the most important, and this the plant
gets chiefly through the roots.

Nitrogen is found in the earth combined with
hydrogen and other substances. The protoplasm
tears to pieces these nitrogenous substances which
the roots suck up, and so enables the plant to take
the nitrogen.

The other two substances which the protoplasm
needs, sulphur and phosphorus, the plant gets partly
from the air and partly from the earth.

Sulphuric acid exists in very small quantities in
the air and goes in through the stomata, attracted,
no doubt, by the protoplasm inside. But other sul-
phurous and phosphorous compounds are taken up
by the roots.

So we see protoplasm is complicated. It contains
carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, sulphur, and
phosphorus united in a very complicated way.

Although protoplasm itself is made only of carbon,
hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, sulphur, and phosphorus,

178 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

it can make use of a great many other things.
When the protoplasm of certain cells wants to build
hard, tough walls, it uses potash and soda or even
silica, which you know glass is made of. Just draw
a blade of sedge grass through your fingers if you
want to feel the silica in it. You will probably cut
your fingers, but that will help make you remember
about silica. Then the protoplasm uses iron to color
the petals and other parts of the plant. It uses
magnesia, too, and salt and lime and a number of
other materials for building walls or making dyes or
something else.

Every material in our own bodies is found in
plants, and sometimes the plants have materials that
we do not have.

Of course materials are put together differently in
plants from what they are in us. When Mother
Nature combines her carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, ni-
trogen, sulphur, phosphorus, magnesia, iron, and all
the other things to make a plant, she does not go to
work as she would if she were going to make an
animal.

Just what the difference is it would be difficult
to tell, but there is a difference.

Plants contain a good deal of sugar as a rule, and
if you remember cloves you will admit that at least

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 179

some flowers are made of spice, for cloves are the
dried flower buds of the clove tree.

Cinnamon is the bark of a plant, and if you are
acquainted with orange trees you will be willing to
say they are "made of sugar and spice and every-
thing nice," for the whole tree, wood, bark, stems,
leaves, flowers, and fruit, is fragrant and spicy.

Oil is another common substance in plants, and it
is made from the materials of starch which, as we
know, are carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen ; cotton-seed
oil, olive oil, and castor oil we are all familiar with.

All nuts contain a great deal of oil, and the skin
of a fresh-picked orange is so full of it that it runs
down our fingers when we cut the orange.

All the things in a plant — starch, sugar, oils,
spices, wood, bark — everything is made by the won-
derful protoplasm in the cells.

Starch and the food taken up by the roots pass
through all parts of the plant by the sap tubes, and as
the sap goes along, each living cell draws into itself
the substances from the sap that it needs, and these
it combines into the things it wants to make. Some
of the cells in an orange skin, for instance, attract
out of the sap the materials to make the fragrant,
stinging oil that fills the fresh skin, while other cells
attract the materials to build the white cottony cov-

180 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

ering inside the outer skin, and so the cells in each
part of the plant take out what they need to build
with.

WHAT BECOMES OF THE FLOWERS?

EARLY in the spring the snowdrops and crocuses
peep out, and then they go away.

We do not think much about it, for other flowers
have come in their places.

Spring beauties and bloodroots shine in the woods,
and then they go away. But the mandrakes have
come with their umbrella leaves, and then the colum-
bines and roses ask for a welcome.

After awhile we can find no more mandrakes and
columbines, only yellow apples and brown seed -pods.
Jack-in-the-Pulpit jumps up quite early in the
summer, and then we cannot find him,
only in the late summer we
sometimes come across little
clusters of bright red berries
lying on the
ground.

We would
scarcely sus-
pect them of
having any

182 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

relation to Jack, yet they are his berries. But what
has become of Jack?

In the autumn the rose leaves fall off, and there is
left only red stems and red berries.

The morning-glory vine wilts and turns black at
the first frost ; it sinks to the ground and we see it
no more, or else its stems linger brown and hard for
a time, but in the end it all disappears. What has
become of it?

And the nasturtiums — what a wreck the frost
makes of them ! The leaves are wilted and black ;
the stems, too, are soft and lie flat on the ground.

Why, you say, the frost has killed them. But
that does not at all tell what has become of them.
Besides, the frost did not kill the snowdrops and
crocuses and blood roots and spring beauties nor
Jack-in-the-Pulpit nor the umbrella leaves of the
mandrakes. Yet they are all gone. All we can
find of Jack and the mandrakes are red berries and
yellow apples. Not a sign of the snowdrops or
spring beauties or crocuses is left.

If you will just step down with me under the
earth a few inches I will show you something.

Make believe }TOU are a gnome or a fairy and can
see as well in the dark earth as anywhere else and
come along. Now look about.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 183

Did you ever dreain of anything so cunning in
all your life? Everywhere and everywhere old
mother earth is packed full of little white and
brown bulbs.

There they are as snug as peas in a
pod, thousands of them, in every direc-
tion as far as you can see.

And besides these bulbs, there are
thick, fleshy root stems, red and brown
and yellow, everywhere and everywhere.
Do you want to know who they are?

They are our little friends of the early
summer, — snowdrops and crocuses and spring beau-
ties and dogtooth violets ; mandrakes, too, and Jack-
in-the-Pulpit.

These bulbs and thick roots are full of plant food ;
and this is where the plant has gone to. It has
curled up, so to speak, in these bulbs and roots and
gone to sleep till next spring. Then it will wake
up. It will hardly wait for the snow to go off before
it pushes out a bud. The snowdrop does not wait,
but sometimes blossoms right under the snow. In a
few days the woods that looked so dead and bare are
as gay as you please. That is because the plants
sleeping in the bulbs and thick underground stems
have waked up. They have eaten the rich food

184 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

stored up there and have grown like magic. Up into
the sunshine they spring ; they wave sweet flowers ;
they call the little insects that have ventured out to
come and taste their nectar and bring them pollen.

Their leaves are green and delicate, but they work
hard, for the plants have used up the food in the
bulbs or in the thick underground stems, and the
leaves and roots must make new bulb material or
store away more food in the thick underground parts.

It is spring, and the air is moist and warm. It
rains often, and the plants have all the water they
need.

What fun it must be to come out in the world!
What joy to unfold bright flowers in the shadowy
woods! They dance on their stems and ripen their
seeds ; before the slow roses have thought of opening
their eyes, the bulb people and the underground-stem
people have done all their work of growing. The
seeds are ripe and ready to be scattered ; new bulbs
are packed full of plant food, and fresh food is
stored in the thick underground stems. The bulb
people and the underground-stem people have had a
good time.

They were up early in the summer and saw the
sweet, fresh world ; their leaves worked hard, and
their work is all done now.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SOIiTS OF THINGS. 185

They are tired and want to sleep. They fear the
heat and dryness of the summer. They do not want
to be crowded by the other plants that are beginning
to look out everywhere.

" We will go to sleep and let the other plants have
our places ; we have had our share of the air and
the water and the dear sunshine/' they seem to say.
" We have caught the sunbeams and stored them
away in our bulbs and roots, and we will now rest."

So they go to sleep. They open the channels
from the leaves to the bulbs and the underground
stems, and then all the living part of the leaves
passes quickly down into the part that lies under-
ground. There is only left the hard frame-
work of the leaves. This is not alive ;
it never was alive. The living part of
the leaf built it for a house to live and
do its work in ; now the house is empty :
the living part has run down into the
bulb or the underground stem.
The part of the leaf that is left
soon falls to pieces, as any old

186

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

abandoned house will do. It falls on the. ground;
the rain soaks it, and it crumbles apart. It changes
into food for other plants. It is not lost ; it is taken

/up by other plants and again built into
good plant material.

/ l^ So it is with the seed-pods; when the

seeds fall out, the part that is left behind is
not alive. All the living part has gone out of
the dry pods down into the bulbs or the under-
ground stems ; and the pods, too, crumble
to pieces and make good food for other
plants.

But the seeds are alive. They lie in the
earth and wait for the time to come
when they may wake up and make
new plants with young bulbs or
thick underground stems.

But how about the roses? Do
they not die in the fall? Why, what
are you thinking of ? Do they not
wake up next spring and cover their
stems with leaves and flowers ? Dead
bushes could not do so.

You see how it is. The leaves work all
summer long. They store up food in the roots and
the stems. When the frost comes and pinches them,

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 187

they know it is time to stop work and go to sleep
for the winter. They have roots down in the ground.
And now you know as well as I do how they man-
age it.

When the leaves have done their work and fed
the flowers and the stems and the seeds, and when
the stems and the roots are stored full of food, the
leaves stop working. The green little cells that
made them so bright all summer go away; the
living part of the plant and the rich juices find
their way into the roots and stems. Only the dead
frames of the houses that the living parts of the
leaves built in which to do their work are left. They
are dry and lifeless; they never were alive. The
living protoplasm has left them and unhinged them
so that they soon fall off.

You know what becomes of them. They change
into a great many substances. The little particles
in them let go of each other and unite with other
particles. In this way gases are made which go
out into the air, but some parts are solid minerals
which the roots took out of the earth to build
the frame of the leaves. All these minerals fall
back into the earth for the roots to use again
next year.

So you see the leaf frame simply changes back

188 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

again into the gases and minerals of which it had
been made by the leaves and the roots.

As the protoplasm withdraws from the leaves of
the rose bushes and of many other plants, particu-
larly the trees, the resting time of the plant is
announced by the most brilliant colors, the result of
certain changes going on within the leaf. These
bright colors that make our autumn woods so en-
trancing are not dependent upon the frost, as many
think, but upon certain changes going on within the
leaf itself as it ripens, just as fruit, when it ripens,
takes on glowing colors. The bright autumn leaves
are ripe leaves getting ready to fall. Why do you
suppose leaves fall ? It is better that they should ;
the sooner they fall, the sooner they will be con-
verted into leaf mould to feed other plants. So the
plants have a way of gathering their ripe harvest of
leaves.

The falling of the leaf is not an accident, nor is it
dependent upon the wind ; when the time comes, the
leaves go down, wind or no wind, though doubtless
the wind helps them. When they are fully ripe, the
leaves let go ! The cells that connect the leaf stem
with the branch shrivel and shrink until the leaf is
entirely separated from the parent plant ; when this
happens, the leaf falls. The ripe leaf is less juicy

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 189

than the young leaf; its. juices have departed and
left the stiff, lifeless framework and the hardened
skin, with the emptied cells beneath, to find their
way to the earth.

But while the trees and bushes, the bulbs and
underground stems store away the living part of the
plant, what about the morning-glories and nastur-
tiums? They do not send their living part into
roots or stems, for they do not grow again another
year. What now becomes of them?

They die, you say. I do not say that. I say they
change. Of course the seeds live on. The morning-
glory seeds, and the seeds of all the plants that grow
wild in a climate like ours, are not hurt by the cold.

You very well know that some of the life of the
plant is folded up in the seeds. But the vines and
leaves seem to be hurt by the cold. They fall limp
to the ground. They change. The little particles
of which they are made let go of each other; they
unite with other particles in new ways. They float
off in the air as gases.

These gases are carried about by the wind and
meet new plants, which build them into their leaves
and stems.

Part of the particles in the frosted vine do not
become gases ; they let go of other particles and sink

190 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

down as minerals, to be -taken up by plant roots
another season. Other parts lie on the earth in the
form of rich vegetable mould, which is also taken
and built into new plants. So when our morning-
glory or nasturtium vine disappears, it is not lost ;
it has only changed its form.

Instead of being a nasturtium, its particles may
find themselves built into a dozen different plants.

So what we call death is only change. Not an
atom of any plant is lost.

Besides, if no plants changed back again into
gases and minerals, there could be no growth and
no flowers in the world. There would be no mate-
rial to make new plants, and no room for new plants
to grow.

There would be no room for seeds to sprout and
no need of seeds, so the plants, which never do any-
thing that is not necessary, would not make any
seeds ; and if there were no seeds, there would be no
flowers. What a dreary earth it would be if plants
never changed — if they never, as we say, died ! The
same old plants living forever, — no flowers, no open-
ing buds, no tender spring green,
no bright autumn colors.

It is good that the plants die,
or change, as I prefer to call it.

NOTHING BUT LEAVES.

AFTER all, that is what a rose
is, — nothing but leaves ; and
what a violet is and a lily and
a nasturtium and a honeysuckle
and all the flowers you can
name.

You do not believe
it ? That is because you
know so very little about
leaves. When you know more, you
will believe it, see if you do not.

Perhaps when you know where
the flowers came from and how
they came to be flowers at all, you
will change your mind about several
things. Anyway, there is one thing
you do know, because you have studied geography
and about the stars and about the earth's crust
and all that.

You know that once upon a time there were no
flowers in all the round old earth. You do not

191

192 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

know it? Why, of course you do. You know that
once upon a time there was no life on the earth, at
least not what we call life now. It was so hot
nothing could live, not even a salamander, which
they say lives in the fire, although, of course, this is
not true, and it could no more live in the fire than
you could.

Well, we are told that once the earth was about as
hot as the sun is now, — just a mass of blazing gases
and melted rocks and metals.

You would not have known it if you could have
seen it, and, what is more, you would not have
wanted to see it ; you would have been afraid to
come near enough.

You could not have found Lake Michigan on it
nor even the Atlantic Ocean nor the Rocky Moun-
tains, and the reason you could not have found
them is, they were not there. There was no Lake
Michigan and no Atlantic Ocean and no Rocky
Mountains.

You see, they had not been made yet. All the
water and minerals were bubbling and seething and
whirling around in the most awful storms. You
would have wanted to get as far from the earth in
those days as you possibly could ; not even the North
Pole was cool enough to rest upon with any comfort.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 193

This went on for a few millions of years probably,
but the earth was all the time getting a little cooler,
until it got so cool that things began to harden and
the dry land to appear. But mother earth was in a
state of terrific excitement even then, and every
once in a while would heave such a sigh that an
earthquake or volcanic eruption would break forth.
But as old earth, or young earth I suppose it was
then, grew older and calmer, it settled more and
more into its present form. It got so cold and old
after awhile that it became wrinkled, like the skin
of an apple in the late fall. You know how that is.
Only mother earth was a very large apple and her
wrinkles were very deep, and in fact they made the
great mountain ranges.

You need not believe all this unless you want to,
but it is true, — that is, the wise people, who know
more than you and I ever will, say so.

But what has all this to do with leaves ?

It has as much to do with leaves as the fire in the
stove has to do with the boiling of the tea kettle.

Of course, while the earth was in this overheated
state, nothing could grow on it. But it kept getting
cooler and cooler, until at last life began to appear.
Just exactly what this first life looked like I do not
know. Nobody does, because,, you see, nobody was

194 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

living then to tell about it and write it down. But
very likely queer mushy plants were the first to come
along, and they were about all leaf. So far we may
be pretty sure.

After awhile plants with stems and leaves grew
up and flourished.

They were queer enough, no doubt, for there are
pictures of some of them which the rocks took and
kept for us, and people often break open a rock
nowadays and find these old plant pictures.

They are what we call fossils, and now I
have no doubt you know all about it ; if
you do not you will some day, — that is, if
you care to.

From what the rocks tell us, and for
other reasons, we feel pretty sure that the
s£ earlier plants had only leaf and stem, but
no flowers. And the very first leaves were
not like the leaves we see in the woods and gardens
about us, for they were probably large and mushy and
had no veins to speak of. If you had picked one up it
would have been flabby and squashy, and you would
have been glad to put it clown again. But nobody
ever did pick one up, because nobody was there.

The earth was not ready for us yet. It was all
soft and swampy or hard and cheerless, and we had

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 195

to wait until these queer pioneer plants gradually
changed into other plants and made the earth fit to
live on.

But these flabby old friends of ours went to work
with a will to get things in shape for us to come.
Their green leaves and stems, where they had any,
ate the gases in the air and stored them up as plant
material. Then they died. They did us as much
good by dying as by living, for only part of their
substance went back as gases into the air ; the rest
went into the ground and began to make soil for
other plants to grow in.

So Mr. Flabby Leaf was a very good life starter.

One thing we are quite sure of, and that is, these
earlier plants did not have any seeds. When new
plants came from the old ones, they merely sprouted
out from the leaves or the roots, as a certain fern
that grows in Fayal and, other places does to-day.
It is fun to raise this fern in a window box and
watch the young ferns sprout out of the edge of the 1||
leaves of the old fern. After they get two or three
tiny green leaves and the cunningest little curled-up
frond, just like a big fern, off they tumble down to
the ground, where they strike root and grow as
calmly as though they had come the regular plant
way and sprouted from a seed.

.
196 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

They do come the regular way the very early
plants did, instead of coming the way modern plants
do, for in some such way the earlier plants, no doubt,
reproduced themselves.

They had no flowers and no seeds. Leaf and stem
did it all. You see, these first plants were simple
people, not complicated at all, and so each part of
the plant was able to do all its own work. But
after awhile the plant world became more complex ;
the earth grew drier, for one thing. The first plants
lived in the water, no doubt, and so everything was
much easier for them 5 at least they could always
get plenty of water, which is a matter of great im-
portance with plants.

No water, no plant. Then, too, the earth cooled
more and more, and from being uniformly warm and
moist, which was just the best conditions for plants
to live without taking any trouble about it, the air
was sometimes colder and contained less moisture.

So the plants that grew on the land had to invent
ways of getting and keeping an extra amount of
water, and even those that lived in the water had to
look around and find a way of protecting themselves
against changes of temperature.

As the earth grew cooler and drier, and the
changes from hot to cold at the different seasons

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 197

became more marked, the plants that grew on the
prairies and mountain sides, where it was very
hot and damp at one season and very dry or very
cold at another, had to find ways to protect them-
selves against these changes. So the leaves and
stems began to be a little more particular about
their work. The leaves may have said, "We will
do one kind of work in one part of us and another
kind of work in another part.
We will have stiff veins and
ribs to protect us from being

198 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIEND 8.

blown to pieces, and we will have our sap flow
through veins, instead of soaking all through us
everywhere. And we will have a thick skin to
breathe through and to protect us from the sun
when it is too hot."

So some lived on the hot plains with small, thick,
hard leaves, and others lived in the damp shady
woods with large, thin, tender leaves.

Thus, you see, there came about a division of
labor. Not all at once, — oh, no! but so gradually,
so very gradually that, had you been watching these
plants grow from year to year, you could no more
have seen any change than you can see a blade of
grass grow to-day, although you know it does grow.
Perhaps the plants on the edge of a swamp were the
first to change.

Perhaps the water receded and so gradually left
them higher and drier. As they got less water,
they would have to do one of two things, — change
to suit the new state of affairs or give up trying
and die. Very likely a good many died ; the water
may have receded too rapidly, or they could not see
just how to change. But others did see, and they
stiffened their flabby leaves with ribs and veins and
made for themselves a thicker skin, and so lived on.
They survived because they were the fittest to sur-

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 199

vive. And now you know the meaning of that very
celebrated saying, "the survival of the fittest";
whatever plant or animal can adapt itself the best
to the place it lives in is the fittest, of course, for
that place, and so it survives or lives on.

No doubt, in those early days, new plants grew
out of the old ones just anywhere as the baby plants
grow out of the leaf of the Fayal fern I told you
about.

But as life grew more and more difficult, as the
plants had to contend with too much heat at one
time and too great cold at another, with now a
season of moisture and now one of great dryness,
their leaves, as you know, began to change and di-
vide up the work. A part of the leaf breathed for
the plant ; another part ate for it ; another part pro-
tected it. Nor was this all. Some leaves did one
kind of work and some another, as time went on.

When animals oame upon the earth they ate the
plants, and so the plants had to partly protect them-
selves to keep from being entirely destroyed. Thus
some plants changed part of their stems or leaves
into sharp thorns, as we see to-day in the hawthorns
and cactuses. Some, like the mullein, covered their
leaves with a disagreeable wooly substance that
stuck to animals' mouths and made them avoid the

200 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

plants. These wooly coverings served two purposes,
— regulated evaporation and protected from the
attacks of animals. Some, like the aconite, manu-
factured a poisonous, disagreeable juice,
while others, like the nettle, clothed the
stems with stinging hairs.

There are many, many ways by which
plants have changed their leaves and
stems in order to protect themselves from
being eaten, and all this came about very,
very gradually.

While these things were happening,
other things were happening too. Wher-
ever there is life there is change. Living things
keep changing all the time.

The little fern that drops from the leaf of its
parent is, in a general way, like the parent, but it is
not exactly like its parent ; it is itself and has some
peculiarities of its own. You see, it changes a little
from the parent form or, as we say, varies. Every
living thing has this power to vary within limits.
No doubt, the power of variation was much greater
in early times, and animals and plants were able to
change much more then than now.

As time went on, things sort of settled down, as it
were, and stopped changing so rapidly.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 201

But way back in the early ages the plants changed
a good deal. And all they had to work with, you
will remember, was just stem and leaves, — not
another thing. But that was enough. They could
change stem and leaves into thorns, as we know,
and they could do something else. They could
change leaves into pistils.

When the leaves divided their work, some plants
devoted certain of their leaves to the task of making
new plants. Ferns show this up to this very day.

Look at a clump of ferns in the woods any time
in the middle of the summer or later, and you will
see that some of the fern leaves have little dark
spots on their backs. Sometimes these dots are on
their margins, sometimes on the ribs, and sometimes
scattered everywhere over the back of the leaf.

These dots are little cups filled with a fine dust,
which falls on the ground and finally gives rise to
more ferns. It is sometimes called fern seed, but
the bits of dust are not exactly seeds. In the end
they answer the same purpose, however. Well, sup-
pose one of these fern leaves with the dots growing
on it should curl over backwards until its edges met,
and suppose the little grains should become true
seeds, then we would have a very good ovary with
the ovules inside.

202 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

Fern leaves do not act in this way; they are
too old-fashioned. But some of the leaves in flower-
ing plants do. They just roll up into a pistil,
with young plants, in the form of seeds, growing
inside.

And to this day that is all a pistil is, — a leaf, or a
whorl or circle of leaves, rolled together, with seeds
growing along the inner part. Of course, in time,
these pistil leaves changed very much, and to-day
we find all sorts of pistils, and by just looking at
them, we would never suspect they were leaves or
ever had been. And they are not leaves any more,
and they themselves never have been leaves; but
long ago the pistils of their ancestors were leaves or
parts of leaves, and they have inherited and im-
proved upon these pistil leaves, as a boy improves
upon a willow twig and makes it into a beautiful
carved whistle that does not look at all like a willow
twig, and yet that is just what it is at heart. So
you see, one of the most important parts of the
flower is, after all, "nothing but leaves."

After seeing how the pistil, with its seed -children,
is modified leaves, you will not be surprised to learn
that stamens, too, are merely modified leaves. Any-
way, whether you are surprised or not, that is just
what they are. Tender little leaves folded a part of

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 203

themselves together into little rooms or cells, and on
the inside of these cells the pollen grains grew.

Now the plant was all fitted out. It had flowers,
not very beautiful ones, to be sure, as they had
nothing but pistils and stamens. Still
they were flowers, and flowers are
flowers whether they are bright
or not.

Pistils and stamens were
enough at first. But times
change. Each plant tried every pos-
sible means to make strong seeds, so
it could live in the crowded world.
It did not wish to be crowded out,
you see. So when it discovered the

value of cross-fertilization, it

began, so to speak, to invent ways to bring
this about.

The insects with wings came to it and
brought it pollen, so it learned to coax the
the insects to come oftener. It made
quantities of pollen, so the insect could
eat what it would and still leave enough for the plant.

It, no doubt, had several rows of stamens, as a
wild rose or a cactus flower has to-day. But it soon
found out a good use to put some of these stamens to.

204 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

It wanted the bees to see and come, so it changed
some of its stamens into petals.

The anthers ceased to grow, and they and the
filaments spread out broad and bright. So, you see,
petals, too, are nothing but leaves, — very much
changed leaves, true, as they were first leaves, then
stamens, and then petals, but that does not prevent
their having come from leaves after all.

If you want to see how it is done, look at a water
lily next time you get a chance.

Unless it is a very unaccommodating lily indeed,
you will be sure to see stamens changing into petals.

Some of the inside petals are small with an anther .
at the tip.

Of course flowers do not go through all these
changes every time they bloom now. They used to
way, way back, when things were in a general state
of change, but after awhile they found out just how
to do it, and so out of the tiny buds at once made
pistils and stamens and petals and sepals.

For sepals, too, came from stamens. The plants
made all these new forms out of the materials of
their leaf buds and wrapped them all together into
a flower bud ; so when this opened, there were the
parts all ready to go to work without any more
shifting around.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 205

The calyx was ready to protect, the corolla to call
the bees and butterflies, the stamens to make pollen,
the pistils to make ovules.

Sometimes flowers forget and go back to the old
ways of doing things ; and if we are lucky enough
to find such a flower, we can see just how it
happened.

Sometimes roses behave in this peculiar way, and
the flower goes back to leaves.

I used to know a bush whose roses did that. The
pistils were leafy and also the stamens, and some-
times a branch grew right out of the middle of a
rose as it does out of a leaf bud. Of course it
was a very ugly-looking thing, neither flower nor
leaf, but it was very instructive.

What do you suppose double flowers are?

Very often they are only flowers whose stamens
have changed into petals.

A double rose has fewer stamens than a single
rose, and sometimes all the stamens are changed,
and the rose has not a grain of pollen to help itself
with. What becomes of its seeds? It does not have
any, as a rule. Where flowers become very double,
the vitality goes to make petals instead of essential
organs, as stamens and pistils are called, and such
flowers often set no seeds.

206 FLQWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

Then how do they continue the life of the race?

Sometimes simply because somebody takes care of
them. Almost always double flowers are cultivated
ones. People take them and tend them, give them
rich soil to grow in, water them, and, if necessary,
keep them warm. Such plants seem to grow lazy
and helpless, as rich people who pamper themselves
a great deal always do. They have all they want
without any effort of their own, and so they cease to
be self-supporting ; they cannot even raise their own
children, but live and die seedless. Such plants, if
left to themselves, would quickly die, as they would
be crowded out by sturdier growths, or else they
would change their habits at once and become good
seed-setting, industrious plants once more, with a
tendency to stop having double flowers.

There are one or two things about corollas that I
am sure you would like to know. One is, how did
the flowers manage to change stamens into corollas?
Another is, how did they manage to give them such
bright colors ?

About corolla-making, — if you are determined to
know that, you will have to take yourself off to that
far-away time when there were no flowers. Then,
in course of time, while changing about and trying
to get fitted to their surroundings, the plants, as

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 207

you know, rolled some of their leaves into pistils
and stamens. But still they had no petals.

The pistils and stamens were flowers, however, —
as much flowers as they would ever be,
no matter how much corolla they might
develop.

A corolla does not make a flower; by
this time you know the important part of
a flower is the pistil and stamens, and so,
even to-day, some flowers, as the elms
and some maples, have no petals at
all. When such maples are in
bloom, you will see gay fringes
decorating the trees. This fringe
is made of the long pedicels with
the stamens at the end. The
stamens swing in the breeze, and
the pollen is blown to the stigmas
which are often in flowers on dif-
ferent trees.

Now, as plants grew and adapted themselves
to their surroundings, they produced more
seeds than could by any chance find room in the
earth to grow. So every little seed that fell had
to fight its way with a host of other seeds and
plants. A defective seed or a weak one would

208 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

stand no chance at all. The others would crowd it
out. We know how that is in a garden. The
delicate flowers have to be helped or the strong
weeds would kill them. We pull up the weeds and
let the flowers have the whole garden to themselves.
But in the woods and fields each plant has to take
care of itself and struggle up as best it can.

This fight of the plants for a place to grow in is
called the struggle for existence. Now, whatever
would help a plant in the struggle for existence
would, of course, be of great benefit to that plant.
As we know, cross-fertilization is a very great help ;
it makes stronger and better seeds, and the plants
whose seeds were regularly cross-fertilized would be
the ones to survive.

Where pistils and stamens are forming, there is
a great deal of nourishment brought to that part of
the plant, and substances are being changed there.
Very often sweet juices are present. Long ago
when insects, in flying about, smelled these sweets
they doubtless would go and eat them, and they
would also eat the pollen. As they went from
flower to flower looking for food, they would carry
pollen sticking to their legs or bodies, and so would
sometimes fertilize the flowers.

The seeds from such flowers would be strong and

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 209

would have the best chance to survive. The plants
that grew from these seeds would also inherit the
tendency to secrete sweet juices near the flower.

In probing for sweets, the insect would irritate the
parts it touched, and this would cause an extra flow of
sap there and very likely the manufacture of more
sweet juice ; so the nectary came to be developed.

You can understand how this might be by recalling
how the skin of your hand changes when you first
try to do some new and hard work, like rowing a boat.

After you have rowed a little while your hand is
blistered. The constant rubbing of the oar in one
place has irritated it, just as you can imagine the
tongues of the insects rubbing against the delicate
flower tissue would irritate it. Wherever a place on
the skin is irritated, the blood flows to that spot;
and so in the plant, where it is irritated, there* will
likely be a collection of sap. After the blood has
flowed to the place on your hand which was rubbed
by the oar, the spot becomes red and inflamed and
pains you, and finally the skin separates in the form
of a blister and a new skin forms underneath ; and
if you keep on rowing, your hand does not keep on
blistering, but actually makes a new kind of skin to
protect the rubbed places, and what we call a " cal-
lous" or hard spot is formed. The skin is many

210 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

times thicker here than elsewhere, and was formed
on purpose to protect the place. So we can under-
stand how irritation might change a plant organ
and in time form a nectary.

But how about petals, you are asking. Well,
imagine yourself in those old times when plants
made their first flowers out of pistils and stamens
only.

These primitive flowers were probably not very
showy. Primitive flowers means first flowers, —
flowers that lived way back in the beginning of
plant life.

They had no petals, but they secreted juices which
the insects liked. Those early insects were queer fel-
lows, too, not very much like our insects, except that
they were fond of sweets and liked to eat the tender
parts of the flowers, just as our insects do to-day.
They ate nectar when they could find it and did not
disdain pollen, which, it is to be feared, they some-
times ate, anther and all; and, what is worse, they
in all probability frequently dined on pistil, which
was very bad for the plant.

Now imagine one strong plant secreting a good
deal of nectar. The insects would be likely to eat
this and let the pollen and pistil alone, only in get-
ting to the nectar, they would be apt to dust the

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 211

pistil with pollen from another plant which they had
been visiting and would also brush off some pollen
against their bodies.

Thus the strong plant with the abundant nectar
would be cross-fertilized and would keep its pistil
unharmed. It wrould be very likely to develop good
strong seeds that would grow and again bear strong
flowers with plenty of nectar. Now, remember the
essential organs — that is, stamens and pistil — seem
to find it a little easier to change than other parts of
the plant ; so it would not be surprising if in time
some of the stamens were to become different. You
see, the insects in visiting the flowers would irritate
them more or less walking over them and clinging
to them, and they would be likely to undergo change
for this reason ; and if it happened that in some
flower a row of stamens got too full of sap to know
what to do with themselves and so spread out a
little broader and more leaf -like and kept their yel-
low stamen color or bleached-out white, that flower
would be seen far and near and the insects would
go straight to it, for insects have the sharpest kind
of eyes for seeing bright colors a long way off. You
see what would happen ; all the flowers whose
stamens had done so would be abundantly cross-
fertilized, — that is, all their seeds would get fresh

212 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

pollen from another strong plant, and the plants
growing from these seeds would inherit the tendency
of their parents to form petal-like parts from some
of the stamens. The flower could well afford to lose
part of its stamens for this purpose. Of course as
time went on, these stamens, which were half petals,
might develop more and more in the direction of
signals, — that is, might become more and more per-
fect petals, finally losing all trace of their old life as
stamens.

Of course no one can say that is just the way it
came about, but it is likely that in some such way it
happened, for there are proofs of it which you may
like to read when you grow older.

So, you see, flowers are nothing but leaves after
all, — very much changed leaves, to be sure, but yet
just leaves.

Sometimes when plants and animals have changed
into a new form, they change back again. We
know some plants which once had petals but which
have again lost their petals and gone back to a form
which has no petals. Such backward changes we
call retrogression, and it is sometimes difficult to find
out whether a flower with no petals is a primitive
form which for some reason has not changed or
whether it is one which has changed and gone back

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 213

again. Usually, though, we can find traces of petals
and sepals in flowers which have retrogressed.

You see, a flower depends upon its surroundings
for its shape. If its surroundings (and of course
this includes its insect visitors) are such as to favor
its growth in the line of petals, it does so. But if
for some reason it becomes easier for it to grow and
be fertilized in some other way, perhaps by making
abundance of light pollen which is blown by the
wind, as in the maple trees, then it may gradually
lose its petals, as it depends less and less on insects
and more and more on the wind for cross-fertilization.
Nothing in life stands still ; it is always moving, —
going on or going back. And this, we know, is just
the same in human life.

We cannot stand
still ; we must keep
growing wiser and
stronger and better,
or else we must do
the opposite.

SIGNS OF OTHER TIMES.

IN the beginning flowers seem to have
had their petals all separate from each
other. Some do still, and these we call
polypetalous, because "poly-" means
many, and they have many petals. But
other flowers, like our morning-glory,
have no separate petals; all are grown
together into a tube with a bright
border.

But this tube and border tell us a
little story if we are able to hear it.

They tell us of the time when the
morning-glory had several petals. More
than this, they tell us just how many
it had. If we were to guess we should
probably say five, because it seems so
fond of the number five, with its five nectaries,
five nectar guides, five stamens, and five
sepals.

If we guessed five we should guess just right.
There is no doubt but that once upon a time the

214

STORIES ABOUT ALB SORTS OF THINGS. 215

plants from which our morning-glories are descended
had five separate petals. The morning-glories them-
selves manage it differently now, but it took them a
long time to do it. They were working away, long
before the great pyramids of Egypt were built, to
get their five petals united into one piece. But it is
done, and they have learned how to twist the flower
up tightly in the bud and then unroll it in all its
glory.

They never have five petals now, but
they still bear traces of it.

Look at the little notch on the border,
halfway between two nectar guides. Does
that tell us anything?

Count the notches. Five, you see.

Look at the line that runs from the notch
down to the bottom of the flower.

The corolla looks as though it had been folded
along those lines. You can easily see five long
creases ending in a notch. The flower is folded
along these lines in the bud, but we think the lines
have yet another meaning.

Carefully tear the corolla down the lines ; you see,
a very little pressure does it. Now we have the
corolla in five parts, like five petals, only it is so
weak it can no longer hold itself up. Once upon a

216 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

time we think it grew this way, with five separate
petals, only the petals stood up then, for they must
have been stiffer and perhaps were not so long. It
was long, long ago, oh, very long ago, that it had
its five petals. Then the edges of the petals began
to grow together, and they kept on doing this until,
in course of time, the whole length of each petal had
grown fast to the next one, all except that little tiny
spot where the notch is.

We are glad our morning-glory kept this little
notch and the line where the sides of the petals
grew together, for that is what tells us the story of
long, long ago when all the petals were separate.

When finally they were grown together, the corolla
did not need to be so stiff, for its shape helped to
make it firm, and then it no longer used good ma-
terial to make stiffening for the petals, for that would
have been a waste of plant sap, and plants do not
like to waste materials. When they find they can
get along without something they have been used to
having, they stop making it. Life is too short and
too precious to waste a bit of it. Our flower only
kept the stiffening in the corolla along the paths
where it wished the bees to go to its honey cups
and where, when folded, it could best protect the
bud.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 217

The morning-glory, you see, is as wise as it is
beautiful.

WHY ARE THE FLOWERS SO LARGE AND BRIGHT?

WHY are the flowers so large and bright?

We cannot say that they were always so. It is
probable they were not.
But good Mother
Nature has watched
over them as they came upon
the earth, and she has lov-
ingly made them so large and
bright.

How could she do this? Let us
see. Here is a tangle of plants.
They all bear flowers and all set
seeds. Some are stronger and more
beautiful than others. The seeds
fall to the ground. Those from
strong and beautiful plants are larger
and stronger than the others. After a while the seeds
sprout. Not all do this, however. The very weak-
est do not sprout. Dear Mother Nature has other
work for them. " You are not suited to struggle in
the earth with the strong seeds, dears," she whispers

218

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 219

and lays them to rest. They do not wake up ; the
materials in them change. These materials let go
of each other ; they depart from the seed ; some as
gases float off in the air ; others as minerals sink in
the earth. The gases and the minerals are not lost.
They join some other plant and help to make it
strong.

"It is better to help another than to try to grow
yourselves," Mother Nature whispers to these little
seeds that could not sprout. And they are happy.
They are glad to change into gases and minerals and
help another plant to grow.

Many of the seeds sprout, but not all grow up and
blossom. There is not room in the earth for all the
seeds to grow ; there is not food enough in the air
to feed so many. Mother Nature with her kind eye
looks over the growing plants.

She smiles and shakes her head at those trying to
grow in shady places.

" No, dears." she whispers, " there is other work
for you to do." Then the shaded seedlings do not
try any more to grow into plants. They give up the
materials they have collected to the little brothers
and sisters who have started in the good ground and
the sunlight.

They fade away, but they are happy, for they, too,

220 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

are doing their work. The materials in them let go
of each other. They change into gases and float off
in the air, or to minerals and other substances and
sink to the ground. These gases and solid substances
pass into other plants and help make them strong.

"It is better to help another than to do poor work
alone, dears/' Mother Nature whispers, as she lays
them to rest.

Then she visits all the weak plants, and all those
in poor soil or in too much light or too much shade,
and lays them to rest. Their materials go to nourish
the strong plants, who are doing good work in the
world and growing in beauty. Not all the plants
that live to blossom are good alike. Some are better
than others, but Mother Nature lets them grow if
they are strong enough and can find food. At last
the blooming comes. The flowers do their best.
The strong ones make large, bright flowers full of
color and full of sweetness. Mother Nature smiles
at them and is pleased. The weaker flowers do their
best; they are not so bright nor so large. Mother
Nature smiles at them, for she loves them, too, and
she will tell them what to do. The bees come and
fly to the brighter flowers ; they have rich, abundant
pollen and rich nectar. The bees know this; they
do not care so much for the duller, smaller flowers.

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 221

When the bees do not come, Mother Nature whis-
pers to the little flowers, " Never mind, dears, there
is work for you to do." So they are happy, though
their ovules get no pollen and they set no seeds.
They are happy to do the work dear Mother Nature
has for them to do.

strong flowers set
eeds ; they are
and they have
been well fertilized. The
weak flowers set few
seeds; they are not
strong to make many seeds, and
they have not been well fertilized.
So year by year and century by
century Mother Nature watches
her plants and encourages the
strong to grow and helps the weak to find other
work.

And this is why the flowers are so bright.

222 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

Mother Nature selects those that are to grow and
blossom and sends the rest to help them. This is
what we call natural selection, and this is what
makes the earth so beautiful. Only the best con-
tinue to grow ; the others are glad to help them.

HOW MOTHER NATURE MAKES NEW FLOWERS.

ONCE upon a time there lived a little plant in a
marshy place. We will call it Primus, not because
that was the very first form of the plant, for it was
not, but because that was its form when we first
saw it.

It had five small yellow petals, five small stamens,
and an ovary.

When its seeds were ripe, along came a great wind
and blew them away from the marsh upon the dry
land at the edge.

Poor little seeds, they were out of their familiar
wet marsh and they could not grow. But they did
their best. Some of them managed to sprout, but
soon they found the earth too dry and the sun too
hot ; so they said, " We will turn to other work ;
we will help the other plants and not try to grow
ourselves."

So they changed into gases and minerals and other
substances. But a few of the seeds continued to
grow.

223

224 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

They blossomed and bore seeds, but they were not
just like the plants in the marsh. Mother Nature
had helped them get a tougher skin and taught them
how to shut tightly their pores in dry weather, so
that the water within them could not escape.

You see, they were already different from their
parents, though you might not have noticed it if
you had seen them, the difference was so slight.
The seeds of these new plants sprouted the next
season. They did not have a hard time to grow.
They knew just what to do, and the best and strong-
est of them grew a few hairs to help cover up the
pores, so the water would not go out too fast.

It happened to be a very hot, dry season, and all
the plants but these hairy ones stopped growing.
They changed into gases and minerals and other sub-
stances to help the other plants. The hairy people
got through the dry season very well. They set a
good many seeds, and these seeds sprouted. The
new plants remembered about the hairs and had
plenty of them. Some were covered all over with
a soft down.

And it was well they were, for it was a very hot,
dry season, and all but the downy ones stopped
growing and changed into minerals and gases and
other substances to help the others. The seeds of

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 225

the downy plants blew far over the dry land, far
away from the marsh ; but they had learned to live
in the dry soil, and if you had found these downy
people, you would hardly have known they were
descended from the smooth, juicy, large-leaved marsh
plants. Their stems were hard and tough and their
leaves stiff and small. We can no longer call them
Primus, they are so changed.

Let us call them Secundus. Secundus had small
yellow flowers, like the marsh plants it was descended
from. But one day some of the seeds of Secundus
blew into the edge of a wood where the soil was rich
and the air damp. This just suited the Secundus
seeds, and they grew into very thrifty plants indeed.
They had so much sap and grew so luxuriantly that
their petals were twice as large as was usual with
Secundus petals. These fine showy flowers also pos-
sessed a great deal of nectar, they had so much sap.
Of course the bees came to them, and they were well
fertilized. They set many seeds. The next year
these strong seeds were able to grow even when
their neighbors were not, and the plants that came
from these seeds also had large showy flowers.

These stronger plants held their own, you may be
sure, and at last there was more of them than of the
small-flowered plants. It was well for them this

226 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

was so, for there came several bad seasons when
nothing was just right for these plants. It was
cold and stormy, and only the very strongest lived
through it. But they managed to survive, and their
flowers were large and showy.

All the weaker plants with smaller flowers were
killed out, and only these large-flowered ones re-
mained. They were very different from their ances-
tors the marsh plants, and we shall have to call
them Tertius.

One day some of the seeds of Tertius were blown
into a new kind of soil ; they sucked up the juices
of this new soil, and lo ! some of their flowers opened
white instead of yellow. It so happened that the
white-flowered plants were stronger than the others.
The bees liked them, too ; for, being so strong and full
of sap, they made plenty of honey. So these white-
flowered ones increased in numbers very greatly.
At last only the white ones could be found ; the yel-
low ones had gradually given way before them until
no yellow ones were left.

So we will call the white-flowered people Quartus.

Quartus lived a long time, each year bearing seeds,
the strongest and best of which grew up and bore
flowers.

One day some of Quartus' seeds were blown into

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 227

a hot, sandy place ; this almost killed them, but some
of them managed to grow.

• Their leaves were smaller and stiffer than ever
before, but they had a great many of them, and
their flowers were large and white. They grew to
like the sandy soil, and what they got from it
changed their sap in some way so their petals were
delicately tinged with pink. The bees liked these
pink flowers ; perhaps their honey was a little richer ;
perhaps they could see them better. However that
may be, the bees almost deserted the white-blossomed
plants and visited the pink ones. So the white
flowers set few seeds and the pink flowers many.
When the seeds sprouted, the pink ones were the
strongest, because in their change of color there was
somehow added a change in strength ; they were
stronger than the white flowers. They grew fast
and took the materials from the earth and the air;
and when the white flowers saw this, they said,
"It is their turn now," so they changed into gases
and minerals and other things and helped the pink
flowers to grow.

Soon there were no more white flowers to be seen ;
they had stopped growing, and only the pink ones
kept on, so we shall have to call these pink flowers
Quintus.

228 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

But a great danger threatened Quintus. Cows
and goats and sheep bit oft' their leaves. They ate
so much of them that many plants were killed out-
right. Only the stiffest and hardest were left to
blossom and set seed. The seeds of these plants
with the stiff leaves and stems grew into other stiff-
stemmed and stiff-leaved plants. The cattle browsed
the tenderest of these and again left the stiffest.
This went on for many years, the plants growing
stiffer and harder each year. Some of them got so
stiff and hard that they threw out prickles all over
their stems.

These prickly ones were not eaten, and in time
you would have found them grown into woody
bushes with prickly stems.

We shall have to call these Sextus.

Sextus spread all over the sandy plains. Hardly
any other plant was to be seen. The strong Sextus
seeds sprouted and took the materials in the earth
and the air, and the other seeds that happened to be
blown among them did not grow ; they changed into
gases and minerals and other substances and helped
the Sextus plants to grow.

One day some Sextus seeds blew upon good, rich,
damp soil, and there they sprouted and grew. They
had plenty of water, and there were no cattle to dis-

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 229

turb them; so those with the fewest prickles were
the best oft', because they could use the food material
to make larger flowers instead of prickles. So the
plants with fewer prickles had larger flowers and
better seeds, and these seeds sprouted and grew, and
the others gave way before them. In the course of
time these plants growing on the rich soil lost their
prickles, and their flowers were large and very deep
pink ; in fact, some of them were a bright red.

These bright-red flowers attracted the bees, and
so they lived on and set seed. These we must call
Septimus.

For some reason some of the seeds of the Septimus
flowers developed unusually thrifty plants.

These plants had flowers with petals so full of sap
they overlapped, and finally, just because they were
so full of the growing spirit, the edges of the petals
grew together.

Finally, the flowers with the edges grown together
were the most successful. The tube their flowers
made kept the nectar for the bees, and the bees
liked to go into these red bells. You see what had
happened : the flowers were no longer polypetalous.
Their petals had grown together ; they were gamo-
petalous. Their corollas formed snug tubes, some-
thing like a morning-glory corolla, for the bees.

230 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

We shall have to call these people Octamus.

And we will not follow them any farther, only be
sure they kept on changing ever and ever. When-
ever the seeds fell in a new soil, they had to change
or die. The reason they could change so is because
no two things are ever just alike, and out of a great
many plants some might be fitted to survive in
the new surroundings. These would live, and their
descendants would be like them, but they would be
different from their ancestors.

In some such way, no doubt, the many different
kinds of flowers have come into existence.

If you ask me for the exact name of our plant
that has changed so many times, I cannot tell you,
for I do not know.

But that, we believe, is Mother Nature's way of
making new flowers.

TONGUES AND TUBES.

A FLOWER tube is a most convenient and safe place
to keep stamens and nectar. If it is protected by
scales or hairs or a sticky juice, as is often the case,
the ants and other small insects are
given a gentle but convincing hint to
keep out. They might readily infer
their presence is not wanted, and
though it may hurt their feelings a
little, they have nothing to do but
obey.

Some flowers like ants and little crawl-
ing insects, but they have open, spreading
corollas with the nectars easily reached ;
but you may be sure a flower with a tube
is no friend to them.

Its tube says " keep out " as plainly as
though it had put out a printed sign, and
then a tube is a sign anybody in the insect
world can read, no matter what language he may
speak or whether he knows his letters.

231

232 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

But tubes are not intended to keep all visitors
away, — far from it.

They are as much an invitation to one kind of
insect as they are a request to " keep off these
premises" to another. If you happen to be a large
insect with a long tongue, you will be sure to find
a welcome in many a flower with a tube. And no
doubt, if you are fond of honey and are industri-
ous about collecting it, you will find that the flower
whose nectar you like the very best and which you
visit the oftenest has a tube just the same shape
and size as your tongue; and what is more, it
will be in the most convenient position for you
to reach it.

It seems to be your flower, and no doubt it is, for
flowers have a way of making their tubes to fit the
tongues of those who love them best. Not that they
do all the fitting, for no doubt the tongues also grow
to fit the flowers.

Of course other insects with similar tongues can
get the honey too, and a good many, whose tongues
are quite different, can reach more or less of it ; but
the bulk of the honey is for the favorite visitor. He
can reach clear to the bottom of the nectary, and in
some cases, where the favorite insect has a very long
and very slender tongue, the spur, or tube, will be so

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 233

long and slender that none but that particular kind
of insect can get the honey at all.

Everybody who lives in New England, and a good
many who do not, knows the white azalea, often
called swamp honeysuckle.

Swamp honeysuckle and the large night-flying
moths are great friends. The azalea has provided
honey for the fellows, and protects it, too, against
other visitors, all but the bees and humming birds.
The humming birds are welcome, and the bees have
a way of coming wrhether they are welcome or not.

If you go just at dark to where the azaleas are
blooming, you will not see the moths, but you will
hear them. The chief sounds in the woods are the
rustling of twigs and leaves in the breeze, the calling
of frogs from the ponds, the noises of the insects,
and the voices of the night-flying birds. Then all at
once there comes another sound, — a steady buzz-z-z
that draws nearer and nearer until it seems to be
close to your ear. This is the moth come to visit
the honeysuckle. And, no doubt, the honeysuckle
is glad to feel the breeze of these fanning wings and
feel the long tongue enter the tube, for the moth's
body touches the out-reaching stigma and leaves
there pollen from some other flower whose honey it
has enjoyed. From the stamens it detaches pollen

234

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

grains to carry to another flower ; and this, too, no
doubt, gives happiness to the azalea, for it makes its
pollen, not for its own use, but for the sake of its
azalea friends.

You see, the azalea has long, upturned filaments
that reach far out of the tube, and the style is
yet longer, so that only a large insect or a hum-
ming bird, collecting
honey while on the
wing, can really give
pollen to the stigma.

Bees alight back of
the anthers and take
the honey. If they want
pollen they collect it
from the
stamens
without

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 235

touching the stigma, except once in a while by
accident, as it were. So however much the ma-
jority of flowers may love and respect the bee, our
azalea has no liking for her. Besides, the bee has
a bad habit of biting a hole in the flower tube and
getting the honey that way. This would be a thor-
oughly disreputable performance on the part of any
insect, and if bees are not ashamed of it they ought
to be.

The azalea does several things for the moth it
loves. It may be its beautiful white color is for his
sake ; anyway, if the flower were not white the
moth would not be likely to find it, since he flies
abroad after the birds have gone to rest, — that is, in
the evening, when it is dark in the damp thickets
where the honeysuckle loves to grow. Azalea has a
sweet white corolla with a long, slender tube con-
taining nectar that moth or humming bird can reach,
but which bees cannot reach. Watch a bee try some
time. If the flower is between you and the light,
you can see the bee's brown tongue through the
flower tube ; she appears to be standing on her toes
and reaching in as far as she can ; she darts out her
tongue to its full length, and you can see it wriggling
and straining to get to the abundant honey low down
in the flower tube. But there is no use trying ; the

236

FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

tongue is too short and the tube too long. The
honeysuckle tube was not made to fit the bee's
tongue, and the bee can get only the outer rim of
the honey. Perhaps this is why the bee so often
breaks in the back way.

Besides being white, the azalea flowers grow in
clusters, which makes them yet more visible in the
dusk. They exhale a delicious and far-reaching per-
fume too, and this is a note of invitation to the
moths.

Instead of writing a note on a sheet of perfumed
paper, the honeysuckle simply sends the perfume
without the paper, and the moth understands the
message and knows the white
azalea " requests the pleasure " of
his company that evening, and he
puts on his best manners, since
he cannot change his clothes, and
goes.

The white azalea is so very
sweet and so pretty, it would
not be strange if other uninvited
guests than bees were to visit it.
No doubt, the ants and bugs arid
gnats and flies would be glad to,
but the azalea has a very inhospi-

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 237

table way of receiving such would-be guests. All
over the outside of the lower part of the white tube
and running in a line to the very tips of the petals
are tiny white hairs with black tips.

These are azalea's body guard. Each tip exudes a
drop of sticky liquid.

Fine, sticky hairs cover the stems and the leaves
too ; so the unfortunate insect that tries to crawl up
to the flower is sure to get wings and legs hopelessly
entangled and "stuck together.

Only large fellows, like bees, who are strong enough
to pull themselves free and clean off their legs, are
able to defy this body guard. You will sometimes
meet our sweet azalea covered on the outside with
little marauders who wanted to steal her honey but
could not, because* the body guard caught them and
stuck them fast.

Not all flowers with tubes have succeeded as well
as azalea in keeping their honey for the visitors who
can do them the most good. Yet many have tried.

Look at the morning-glory, for instance; it has
hairs at the entrance to the nectaries which the ants
cannot readily pass, but which the bees can push
aside. The openings to the nectary are large enough
readily to admit the tongue of a bee, and the dis-
tance into the nectar is about the length of a bee's

238 FLOWERS AND THEIR FRIENDS.

tongue ; but there are no sticky guards to preserve
the honey, for the bees and small beetles and other
tiny insects often crawl into the tube and eat the
honey and even devour the flower itself.

Tropaeolum has a fine large tube full of rich honey
for bees and humming birds. This tube no doubt
corresponds to some tongue or bird-bill in her own

EVEM.NG PKIMKOSK.

South America. But in our country the bees answer
very well. The bumblebee is fond of Tropseolum
honey and fertilizes the flower, while an occasional
ruby throat may be seen taking a sip.

Jewelweed's horn is a humming bird tube and a
bee tube, too. The flowers are so delicately bal-

STORIES ABOUT ALL SORTS OF THINGS. 239

anced on tiny stalks that wingless insects would not
find an easy entrance.

Pelargonium, too, has a tube suited to some long
and slim-tongued visitor. In her own native land in
far-away Africa she probably loves the butterflies
that live there, who also love her, and so they have
grown tongue and tube to fit each other. For the
flower is not the only one to change : the insect
changes to suit the flower at the same time that the
flower changes to suit the insect. They grow to fit
each other/

Wherever you see a flowTer tube you may be sure
there is somewhere a tongue to fit it.

GLOSSAET.

L. = Latin. A.-S. = Anglo-Saxon.

Acheloiis, ?7. A river god with whom Hercules wrestled. Like

Proteus, Acheloiis could change his shape ; he became a serpent

and a bull, but Hercules vanquished him nevertheless and tore

off his horn, which became the horn of plenty.
Alternate, «. L. alter, another ; one following another. Said of

leaves standing singly at the nodes of a stem ; also of stamens

that stand between the petals, and of petals that are placed

between the sepals.
Amalthea, n. In Greek mythology, the nurse of Jupiter, probably a

goat.
Amoeba, n. From a Greek word meaning "change" ; the name of

one of the lowest forms of life ; a bit of living protoplasm capable

of existing as a single cell and of changing its form at will.
Ancestors, n. L. antecessor, a foregoer ; forefathers ; those from

whom animals or plants are descended.
Animal cells, n. The cells or minute divisions which make up the

animal body.
Animals, n. All living things which are not plants are animals. In

the lower forms of life it is impossible to decide whether certain

living things are animals or plants.
Anther, n. From a Greek word meaning "flower"; that part of

the stamen containing the pollen.
Anther cells, n. The hollow spaces in the anther where the pollen

is kept.
Aristocrat, n. From two Greek words meaning " best " and " rule " ;

one belonging to the best in a community ; one among those fit

to rule.

242 GLOSSARY.

Aristocratic, a. Like an aristocrat.

Axil, n. L. axilla, little armpit ; the angle formed between the upper

side of a leaf and the stein or branch to which it is attached.
Azalea, n. The name of a plant. The "swamp honeysuckle" is

not a honeysuckle, but is an azalea.

Barb, n. I,, barba, a beard ; a tuft of hairs ; a sharp point projecting
backward from the point of a fish hook or arrow or any other
sharp-pointed instrument. The barb prevents the instrument
from being readily withdrawn.

Bark, n. The outer covering of the stems and roots of woody plants.

Beak, n. The bill of a bird ; the long, projecting point in the fruit
of the geraniums.

Bloodroot, n. An early spring flower. A pretty, delicate, white
flower opens on a stem that comes up from the ground, and the
roots, when wounded, yield a blood-red sap.

Boer, n. D. boer, a farmer ; a peasant ; the name of the Dutch colo-
nists of South Africa. They are principally farmers and cattle
raisers. They have had many difficulties with the English settlers,
in some of which blood has been shed.

Bract, n. L. bractea, a thin plate of metal; gold-leaf. Used of small,
usually thin, leaf-like parts, and often found near a flower or
flower cluster.

Bulb, n. L. bulbus, a bulbous root ; an onion ; the name of the under-
ground, scale-covered part of hyacinths, etc.

Cactus, n. From a Greek word meaning " a prickly plant " ; a group
of plants which usually grow in dry places and have prickles or
thorns instead of leaves. The prickly pear grows wild in north-
ern latitudes, and others, such as the night-blooming cereus, are
often seen in hothouses.

Callous, a. L. callosus, hard-skinned, thickened and hardened. Ap-
plied to a hard place on the skin, usually the result of friction.

GLOSSARY. 243

Calyx, n. From a Greek word meaning "to cover"; the outer set
of envelopes which form the perianth of a flower. If the perianth
has but one set of envelopes it is called the calyx.

Capillary attraction, n. The force which causes liquids to disperse
through fabrics or tissues. If one end of a towel be placed in a
bowl of water, the whole towel will be wet in course of time.

Carbon, n. L. carbo, a coal ; a substance very widely distributed
and existing under various forms. Coal is one form of carbon,
graphite another, the diamond a third. One atom of carbon
combined with two of oxygen form carbon dioxide.

Carbon dioxide, n. A heavy gas, found as an impurity in the air.
It is breathed out by animals and plants, and absorbed and used
as a food by plants.

Castor oil, n. The oil obtained from the seeds of the castor-oil plant.
Used as a medicine and also in dyeing cotton certain colors.

Cell, n. L. cella, a small room ; a case or cup in which something is
held, as anther cell, ovary cell, honeycomb cell ; also the proto-
plasmic particles of which plants and animals are built up.

Candelabrum, n. L. candela, a candle ; a candle stick ; any branched
candlestick. A candelabrum rests on a post, while a chandelier
is suspended. Candelabra is the plural.

Chasm, n. From a Greek word meaning " a yawning hollow " ; a
wide, deep cleft.

Chlorophyll, n. From two Greek words meaning "light green " and
" leaf," leaf-green ; the green coloring matter of vegetation.

Columbine, n. L. columba, a dove ; a flowering plant which gets its
name from the fancied resemblance of its petals and sepals to the
heads of doves round a dish.

Complexity, n. L. com, together, plectere, to weave ; formed by a
combination of simple things.

Convolvulaceae, n. The name of a family of plants to which belong
the morning-glory and bindweed.

Cornucopia, n. L. cornu, horn, copia, plenty ; horn of plenty.

Corolla, n. L. corolla, a little crown ; a garland ; the floral envelope
within the calyx, very often bright colored.

Cotton-seed oil, n. An oil expressed from the seeds of the cotton
plant and, when purified, used instead of olive oil.

Crete, n. An island to the south of Greece.

244 GLOSSARY.

Crocus, n. An early spring flower.

Cross-fertilization, n. The fertilization of the ovules of one flower

by the pollen of another.
Cross-fertilized, a. Fertilized by the pollen from another plant.

Dew, n. The moisture of the air when condensed on any cold sur-
face. Dew does not fall ; it is formed wherever moisture in the
air comes in contact with a substance colder than the air. Hence
there may be dew on the under as well as the upper side of a
leaf.

Dissolve, v. L. dis, apart, solvere, loose ; to separate the solid par-
ticles of a body in a liquid ; to melt. Sugar dissolves in water.

Double flowers, n. All those whose petals are numerous. Some-
times the stamens are changed into petals, as in double roses,
and sometimes even the pistils have become petals.

Evaporation, n. The conversion of a solid or liquid by heat into
vapor. Most often used in reference to the conversion of water
into vapor. The warm air of summer causes a rapid evaporation
of water from the leaves of plants.

Fayal, n. One of the Azores Islands, west of Portugal.

Ferns, n. A division of flowreiiess plants.

Fertilize, v. L. fertilis, fruitful ; to make fruitful or productive, in
the flower, by introducing the pollen to the ovule, enabling them
in union to become a seed.

Filament, n. L. filum, a thread ; the stem of an anther, often thread-
like in form, though it varies greatly ; any thread-like part.

Flower, n. L.flos, a flower ; the part of a plant consisting of pistil,
stamens, corolla, and calyx. Sometimes the corolla is wanting ;
sometimes both calyx and corolla are wanting. Since pistils and

GLOSSARY. 245

stamens are the most important part of the flower, an organ con-
taining them only is called a flower. Sometimes a flower consists
of only stamens or only pistils, as in some kinds of maple.

Force pump, n. A pump in which a liquid is moved by pressure
behind instead of being lifted, as is the case in the ordinary
pump.

Fossil, n. Animal or vegetable forms which have been long buried
in the earth and so preserved ; the forms or traces of animal or
vegetable structures which have been preserved in rock.

Fruit, n. The matured ovary and all it contains or is incorporated
with. Sometimes the calyx forms part of the fruit, as in the
apple.

Gamopetalous, a. From two Greek words meaning " marriage " and
" leaf " or " petal " ; having the petals united or grown together.
Where a flower has the corolla in the form of a tube it is called
gamopetalous. Several petals are believed to be united into one
piece.

Geranium, n. From a Greek word meaning " crane's bill " ; the
name of a plant, so called because of the long, projecting beak of
the seed-vessel.

Gland, n. Certain cells upon or near the surface of a plant that
secrete, or take from the sap, certain substances. The nectary is
a gland that secretes a sweet juice.

Great pyramids of Egypt. Three large pyramids at Ghizeh, near
Cairo, in Egypt. The largest one is the largest work of man's
hands in the world. The pyramids are very interesting struc-
tures, and are probably the tombs of the ancient rulers of Egypt.

Guard cells, n. The curved cells that guard the entrance to the sto-
mata, or breathing pores, of leaves.

Hairs, n. Fine, thread-like outgrowths from the skin of plants or
animals.

246 GLOSSARY.

Halberd-shaped, a. Shaped like a halberd, or old-time battle-ax.

The bases of certain leaves are called halberd-shaped from their

form.
Hawthorne, n. A small tree with thorny stems. The fruit consists

of small bright red berries called " haws."
Heart, n. The principal organ for the circulation of the blood in

man and other animals.
Hercules, n. In Greek and Roman mythology, a mighty hero, the

god of strength and courage. He performed many feats of

strength, chief among which are those known as the twelve

labors of Hercules.
Honeycomb cells, n. The wax cells made by bees for storing the

honey.
Hyacinth, n. The name of an early spring flower ; also of a precious

stone.
Hydrogen, n. From two Greek words meaning " water producing."

It is a very light, invisible gas, and when chemically united to

oxygen, two parts of hydrogen to one of oxygen, the result is

water.

Imbricated, a. L. imber, rain, imbrex, a hollow roof tile to shed rain ;
imbricare, to cover with roof tiles ; lying over one another, or lap-
ping, like tiles on a roof. Applied to sepals that overlap over
a bud.

Included, a. L. in, in, claudere, to shut, close ; confined within some-
thing. Said of the stamens when they do not project beyond the
mouth of the corolla.

Inherit, v. L. tn, in, lieres, heir ; to take by descent from an ances-
tor. Plants, like people, inherit their characteristics from their
parents.

Iron, n. A very abundant and very important metal. In small
quantities it enters into the composition of plants and animals.

Irritate, v. L. irritare, to excite ; to excite to action. Rubbing irri-
tates the skin and causes extra blood to flow to the spot and thus
redden it. Rubbing may also irritate plant tissues and cause an
extra flow of sap to the part irritated.

GLOSSARY. 247

J-

Jack-in-the-Pulpit. The name-of a plant that blooms in early sum-
mer. The flowers have no corollas or calyxes, but grow clustered
together on a long spike. The spike of flowers is surrounded by
a large overarching bract.

Juan Fernandez, n. An island, west of Chili, in South America. It
is said to be the island where Robinson Crusoe lived.

Jupiter, n. In Roman mythology, the chief of the gods. The eagle
is his favorite bird, and he is often represented with a sheaf of
thunderbolts in his hand.

Knead, v. To press or squeeze until thoroughly mixed.

Levant, n. The name given to a section of country east of Italy and

bordering upon the Mediterranean Sea.
Lime, n. A substance found in the earth and forming the hard part

of bones, and also found in the composition of plants.
Liriodendron, n. From two Greek words meaning " lily" and " tree ";

a North American tree, also called the tulip tree. Its green and

yellow flowers look a little like a tulip.
Lungs, n. Two spongy organs in the chest by means of which the

air is used to purify the blood in breathing.

Magnesium, n. A metal, very abundant in sea water and in the

earth's crust. Also found in the composition of animals and

some plants.
Mandrake, n. A plant with umbrella-like leaves and a yellow, juicy

fruit as large as an egg.
Microscope, n. From two Greek words meaning "small" and

" viewr " ; an instrument which magnifies and renders visible

bodies too small to be seen by the naked eye.

248 GLOSSARY.

Moth, n. An insect resembling a butterfly. Moths have no knobs

on their antennae, or " feelers," and butterflies have.
Mullein, n. A tall, stout weed with thick, wooly leaves.

Naiads, n. In Greek and Roman mythology, water nymphs. Beau-
tiful young goddesses presiding over springs and streams.

Nasturtium, n. L. nasus, nose, tortus, convulsed ; the name of a
plant, so called because of its acrid juice that causes a stinging
sensation at the back of the nose when it is tasted.

Nectar, n. The drink of the gods on Mt. Olympus. The honey of
flowers.

Nectaries, n. The receptacles in which the nectar of flowers is col-
lected ; also the gland which secretes the nectar.

Neptune, n. In Roman mythology, the god of the sea.

Nettle, n. A weed armed with stinging hairs.

Nitrogen, n. A colorless, odorless, tasteless gas, forming about
three-fourths of the air and necessary to the formation of all
living bodies, whether plant or animal.

Nitrogenous substances, n. Substances in which nitrogen is one of
the constituents.

Node, n. L. nodus, a knot ; the part of a stem which bears a leaf or
leaves. It is often a little larger than the rest of the stem.

Octavus, n. L. octavus, eighth ; given in this book as a name to a

suppositional plant.
Oil, n. From a Greek word meaning " olive oil." An inflammable,

greasy liquid extracted from certain vegetables, as olives, cotton

seeds, nuts, etc.

Olive oil, n. The oil expressed from the fruit of the olive tree.
Orient, n. L. oriens, rising, as the sun ; the East, the part of the

horizon where the sun rises ; Eastern countries, particularly

Turkey, Persia, Egypt, India, China, etc.
Ovary cells, n. The cells which build up the ovary.

GLOSSARY. 249

Ovule, n. L. ovum, an egg ; a little egg. Applied to the rudimentary

seeds of plants, which, upon fertilization and growth, become true
* seeds.

Ovule cells, n. The cells of which the ovule is formed.
Oxalis, n. From a Greek word meaning "acid"; a well-known

plant, one form of which is called "wood sorrel." It is called ,

oxalis because of its acid juice.
Oxygen, n. One of the gases that compose the air and which is

essential to life. It is also found in composition in the tissues of

plants and animals.

Pelargonium, n. From a Greek word meaning "a stork"; a mem-
ber of the Geranium Family, so called because of the beaked
seed-pods.
Petal, n. From a Greek word meaning " a leaf "; one of the leaves

of a corolla.

Phosphorus, n. From a Greek word meaning " Lucifer, the morn-
ing star " ; a solid substance which is luminous in the dark. It
is found in composition in the bodies of animals and plants.
Pioneer, n. L. pes, a foot ; in military terms, one of a company of
foot soldiers who march before an army with implements to clear
the way. Hence, whoever or whatever leads or prepares the way
for others coming after.

Pistil, n. L. pistillum, a pestle ; the seed-bearing organ of a flower,
composed generally of three parts, ovary, style, and stigma,
and called pistil because of its shape, which often resembles a
pestle.

Plant cells, n. The cells of which plants are built up.
PoUen, n. L. pollen, fine flour ; the dust or grains of fertilizing mate-
rial found in the anthers of flowers.

Pollen cells, n. The grains of pollen ; each grain is a separate cell.
Polypetalous, a. From two Greek words meaning "many" and

"leaf." Said of a flower having two or more separate petals.
Potash, n. A combination of potassium, carbon, and oxygen.
Potash in various forms is found in all plants.

250 GLOSSARY.

Potassium, n. A substance found in combination with other things
in the earth's crust, and in the form of potash, an important
factor in the substance of plants and animals.

Potato, n. One of the edible tubers of the potato plant. The
potato is a swollen underground stem, the eyes being the nodes.
The potato contains a large amount of starch and is a valuable
food. The potato plant is a native of the Andes. It was taken
to England from Virginia in 1856.

Prickles, n. A.-S. prica, a sharp point ; small, sharp-pointed
growths from the bark of plants.

Primitive, a. L. primus, first ; pertaining to the beginning or origin
of a thing. In botany, beginning to take form, applied to an
organ or structure that is just beginning to assume form.

Primus, n. L. primus, first ; a name given in this book to a sup-
positional plant.

Probing, n. L. probare, to test, examine ; examining by means of a
long, pointed instrument or probe. The bee or butterfly probes
for nectar with its long tongue.

Protean, a. Pertaining to Proteus ; readily assuming different
shapes.

Proteus, n. In classical mythology, a sea god who had the power of
assuming different shapes. He could become a serpent or a
cloud or a bull or anything he chose to become.

Protoplasm, n. From two words meaning " first " and " form." A
substance resembling the white of an egg in appearance, composed
of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, nitrogen, sulphur, and phosphorus.
It is the foundation of all living forms.

Protoplasmic, a. Consisting of protoplasm.

Q-

Quartus, n. L. quartus, fourth ; the name given in this book to a
suppositional plant.

Quintus, n. L. quintus, fifth ; the name given in this book to a sup-
positional plant.

GLOSSARY. 251

Rain, n. A.-S. regn, rain : the water falling in drops through the
atmosphere. Water rises as vapor from the moist earth and the
sea ; it is then condensed by coming in contact with the cold
upper air, and falls to the earth as rain.

Reproduced, pp. L. re, again, producere, to produce, to bring forth ;
produced again, having formed new plants or animals from
those already existing.

Retrogressed, pp. Went backward.

Retrogression, n. L. retro, backward, gradi, to go ; the act of going
backward.

Rhea, n. In classical mythology, the wife of Saturn and mother of
Jupiter.

Ribs, n. The bones that form the framework of the chest in the
higher animals ; the timbers that form the framework of a ship ;
the stiff fibres that form the framework of a leaf.

Robinson Crusoe, n. A story written by Daniel Defoe and pub-
lished in 1719. The adventures of Robinson are said to have
been suggested by the life of Alexander Selkirk, who was ship-
wrecked and lived for four years on the desert island of Juan
Fernandez.

Root, n. The part of a plant that usually grows down into the soil,
fixing the plant and absorbing nutriment.

Root cap, n. The hard cap which covers and protects the growing
tip of a root.

Root hairs, n. The fine filaments growing from the skin of young
roots that absorb the nutriment for plants.

Rubythroat, n. The name of the North American humming bird,
so called because of the bright red feathers on its throat.

Salamander, n. A kind of lizard, formerly supposed to be able to
live in the fire.

Salt, n. One of the most important substances in the world. It is
necessary to the existence of animals and is one of the constitu-
ents of many plants.

252 GLOSSARY.

Sap, n. The juice of plants. It is to them what the blood is to
animals.

Saturn, n. In classical mythology, the father of Jupiter.

Scales, n. A.-S. scealu, a scale, husk ; in botany, a small, rudimen-
tary leaf, scale-like in form. Scales cover the leaf buds and
sometimes the flower buds ; they also constitute some bulbs.

Scape, n. L. scapus, shaft, stalk ; the long, leafless peduncle which
starts from the ground and bears flowers at the top, as in the
hyacinth.

Sceptre, n. L. sceptrum, a staff to lean on; a sceptre ; a staff of office;
the staff of kingship.

Secrete, v. L. secernere, to separate ; to form from the materials of
the sap or the blood a new substance. The organ that secretes is
called a gland.

Secundus, n. L. secundus, second ; the name given in this book to
a suppositional plant.

Seed, n. The fertilized and matured ovule of a flower.

Seed coat, n. The outer covering to a seed.

Seedlet, n. A little seed.

Sepal, n. L. separ, separate ; one of the separate leaves that form
the calyx.

Septimus, n. L. Septimus, seventh ; the name given in this book to
a suppositional plant.

Sextus, n. L. sextus, sixth; a name given in this book to a supposi-
tional plant.

Shrub, n. A woody, branching plant, smaller than a tree.

Silica, n. L. silex, flint ; a substance found very abundantly in the
earth's crust. It is very hard, and when melted forms glass ; it
is found in solution in some springs and is taken up by certain
plants and deposited on or near the surface.

Skin, n. The outside covering of an animal or plant.

Skin cells, n. The cells of which the skin is made up.

Snowdrop, n. An early spring flower cultivated in gardens ; it
sometimes blossoms under the snow.

Soda, n. A compound of sodium, carbon, and oxygen ; found in the
composition of some plants.

Sodium, n. One of the elements of common salt, and also found in
the tissues of plants and animals.

GLOSSARY. 253

Sorrel, n. A.-S. sur, sour ; a kind of plant with acid leaves.

Sphinx, n. In Greek mythology, a monster with the head of a
woman, the wings of an eagle, and the claws of a lion ; she sat
on a rock and proposed a riddle to all who passed and killed
those who could not guess it. The Egyptian sphinx has no
wings and is not the same as the Greek monster ; it is generally
placed in rows in avenues leading to temples, and the largest and
most famous Egyptian sphinx is the Great Sphinx near the great
pyramids of Ghizeh ; it held a temple between its paws.

Spring beauties, n. Pretty, delicate, and early spring flowers.

Spur, n. A pointed instrument worn on the heel to goad a
horse ; any sharp projection formed like a horseman's spur.

Stamen, n. L. stamen, thread, string, fibre ; the floral organ con-
taining the fertilizing pollen. The stamen, like the pistil, is
believed to be a modified leaf.

Starch, n. A substance composed of carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen,
forming one of the principal elements in plants and necessary as
food to animals.

Stiffening cells, n. The woody cells and other tough-walled cells
that serve to keep the shape of a plant.

Stigma, n. The structure at the top of the style where the pollen is
received.

Stipules, n. L. stipula, a stalk, stem, blade ; the small, leaf-like
appendages at the base of the petiole of leaves.

Stoma, n. From a Greek word meaning " mouth-opening " ; a
small opening in the skin of leaves and young stems leading to
the air cavities within the plant ; a breathing pore.

Stomata, n. The plural of " stoma."

Strengthening cells, n. The cells with tough or hard walls that serve
to give firmness and support to plant tissues.

Suction, n. L. sugere, to suck ; the process of sucking.

Sulphur, n. A solid substance found in the earth's crust in certain
places ; it is one of the constituents of protoplasm, and although
occurring in it in very small quantities, it is essential.

Sulphuric acid, n. Oil of vitriol, a combination of hydrogen, sul-
phur, and oxygen. Sulphuric acid is found in the earth and in
the air in very small quantities, and is the source from which
plants as a rule derive their sulphur.

254 GLOSSARY.

Tertius, n. L. tertius, third ; the name given in this book to a sup-
positional plant.

Thoreau, n. Henry David Thoreau, an American author of the present
century, wrote a number of delightful books on nature.

Tissue, n. L. texere, to weave ; a woven fabric ; the cellular fabric
of plant structures.

Tropaeolum, n. From a Greek word meaning " a turning," hence, a
turning of the enemy, a defeat ; finally, the sign of a defeat, a
trophy ; the name of a plant, so called because of the shield-
shaped leaves, many shields together suggesting trophies taken
from the enemy.

Tube cells, n. The cells that build up the tubes of plants.

Tuber, n. L. tuber, a bump, swelling ; a thickened portion of an
underground stem. The potato is a tuber ; it stores up starch
for the use of the growing plant.

Tubular corolla, n. A tube-shaped corolla. The red honeysuckle
has a tubular corolla.

Tunic, n. L. tunica, a tunic ; the name of a garment worn by the
Romans; a loose flowing robe; hence, any garment ; a name
given to the scaly coverings of bulbs like the onion and hya-
cinth.

Tunicated, a. Having a tunic.

Underground stems, n. Stems that grow beneath the surface of the
earth and look more or less like roots. They can always be dis-
tinguished from roots by the presence of nodes.

Variegated, a. L. varius, various, agere, to make ; marked with
different colors.

Veins, n. L. vena, a blood vessel ; the blood vessels or channels
through which the blood flows to the heart ; the stiff, thread-like
tubes forming the framework of leaves, petals, sepals, etc.

GLOSSARY. 255

Vine, n. L. vinea, a grape vine ; a plant with a stem too long and
flexible to stand alone.

Water, n. A well-known liquid composed of two parts of hydrogen

to one of oxygen.
Wax, n. A.-S. weax, wax ; a thick, sticky substance made by bees

for constructing their cells ; substances resembling beeswax in

consistency.

Whorl, n. A ring of organs from the same center.
Wood cells, n. The cells of which wood is built up.

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THIS BOOK ON THE DATE DUE. THE PENALTY
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LD 21-50m-8.-32

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